Across Historia
by drinktea
Summary: A prompt-driven collection of pieces on the relationship shared between Serah & Noel. Currently not accepting prompts. Next up: As Serah tells Snow it's done, Noel sits and waits, wondering when - and if - she'll come back to him.  ON HIATUS
1. King of Trivialities

_**Title**: King of Trivialities_  
><em><strong>Prompt:<strong> Serah's trying to grab Noel's attention, but he is immersed in an interesting book at the Academia bookstore (from tokidoki-shiki)_  
><em><strong>Rating:<strong> K_  
><em><strong>Words:<strong> 1307_  
><em><strong>Commentary:<strong> This one wrote itself, and so fast, too! I thoroughly enjoyed writing this, so I hope you enjoy reading. Feedback is welcome!  
><em>

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><p>Serah frowned upon seeing Noel's frown. "What question this time?" she asked, careful to keep her voice light. She didn't think he had much of a temper, but it was always better to play it safe.<p>

He turned so that they were facing each other, but his eyes remained distant, and his hand stayed at his chin. "Question seven."

A slight smile made it onto her face and her eyebrows shot up. "That's pretty far!" She darted a quick glance over to the glowing Brain Blast terminal behind them both, which Mog was now poking at. Probably trying to get the thing to dispense the fragment by cheating. "Mog," she admonished.

Mog paused, looked over at her, then continued to cast a variety of spells on the machine, to no avail. She sighed.

"Maybe we should go bone up on trivia," she suggested, mostly to erase Noel's frown, but partly to get Mog to stop so they wouldn't be arrested for destruction of public property.

Now, Noel's baby blues locked on her face. He smiled lopsidedly. "That's a great idea!"

She tried not to blush. She nodded, then cleared her throat. "I'm glad you think so," she told him. She clasped her hands together. "I saw a bookstore not too far from here. Why don't we try it?"

"Lead the way," Noel answered, teeth still flashing at her.

She did, walking quickly and ascending a flight of stairs. She noticed for the first time how strange it was for them to be in point-and-rear guard formation when they were in a city. No monster could sneak up on them in a city this large, could it? It was probably habit that had Noel behind her and not beside...

"Come on, Mog," she called back in a good-natured singsong. Mog poofed into existence by her head soon after, pouting. She had to giggle.

* * *

><p>Serah watched the look of wonder slowly slip over Noel's face, and felt an odd, singular pleasure in knowing she'd helped put it there. She strode a ways out in front, then held her arms out. "Welcome to a fully-stocked bookstore," she said, smiling.<p>

Noel's eyes roamed for a little while, still taking in the shelves upon of shelves of novels, magazines, textbooks, atlases, and whatever else. Surely, among all of this, were the answers to their trivia problems. His eyes found Serah again. "Any idea where to start?" he asked, sounding a little stunned still, and she found her smile growing wider.

She gestured with a gloved hand over to the Reference section. "Maybe over here?"

He seemed to square his shoulders - she bit her lip, holding in a laugh - and strode over to the shelves she'd pointed at. "Alright, let's get to it," he said.

"Let's," she agreed. She took off after him.

* * *

><p>After some section-hopping, Serah noticed the absence of Mog. She cast a searching gaze over the surrounding area and found him holding the attention of a group of children. They were pretty merciless, plucking at his wings and poking his belly multiple times. She watched them, laughed, then returned to Noel soon after that. "Mog's playing with some kids," she reported, "If you were wondering at all."<p>

He just nodded. He was holding a thick book open with one hand, eyes flying down one page, then the next.

She cocked her head to the side. Must've found a good one. She took to the shelves herself, finding another book by the same author Noel was reading. This book was much less informative though, and she found herself sliding it back onto the shelf within five minutes of skimming. She stretched her arms high above her head. It feel weird to be under a roof for so long, even if they had only been in here for about-

Her eyes widened as they settled upon the big clock mounted on the far wall. Holy Etro, mother of... they'd been in here for two hours? She looked around for Noel, but he wasn't standing where he had been. It was dinnertime, and they should be getting to that. Her stomach rumbled on cue. She wandered between the rows of shelves, hoping to catch sight of him.

Actually... now that she thought about it, where was Mog, too? She doubled her efforts, meticulously scanning not only people-height areas but the ceilings and floors, too.

And just like those magic eye puzzles she'd done as a kid, _bam _there he was. He took her by surprise, actually. Noel was sitting on the floor, legs crossed, on an over-sized bean chair.

"There you are," she exclaimed. "It's dinnertime."

His eyes were constantly moving back and forth down the page. "I'll eat later," he replied, and it sounded as if he were speaking to her from beyond some kind of divide.

She cast a glance at the spine of his book - volume four of the series he'd picked up on. "Okay," she replied hesitantly. Then she remembered - "Have you seen Mog? I just can't find him anywhere."

Noel simply lifted his arms to reveal his lap, where - shockingly - Mog was sleeping. Her mouth might have fallen open. "O-okay. Problem solved," she commented. Noel's arms returned to where they had been resting.

She heard a titter from behind her right then, and whipped around. She caught a group of female employees dispersing quickly, some with hands to their faces in a posture she identified as a _swoon_. It was either the adorable sleeping moogle who'd elicited those looks or a certain time-traveling blue-eyed brunet. She suspected it was the latter.

Then she had an idea.

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><p>Serah returned to the bookstore three-quarters of an hour later with a takeout bag dangling between her fingers. Noel was in the exact same spot she'd left him, and Mog was still dozing in his lap. He was on volume six now. How did he read so fast?<p>

She set the bag down at his side. "Got you some dinner," she said.

She expected the silent nod and turn of page. She dug into the bag herself and pulled the top off of the container. She'd got him pasta, the kind you could spear blindly and pop into your mouth neatly without needing to look. The smell drifted into the air, which put the employees on alert, but when they wandered over to check and saw Noel, they promptly turned to goo and blobbed away.

Serah wanted to grin. Bingo. She knew it. Of course she'd overheard the comments of "he looks like an actor!" correctly.

She stuck the fork in his hand. She watched as his arm moved down, the fork connected with a piece of pasta, and he popped it into his mouth. She smiled mildly, glad he wouldn't go hungry in this trivia mission. Then she let herself wander off and peruse the magazines, filling her head with mindless drivel about spring hemlines and mascara brush size. She even spotted a movie actor who, yes, looked like Noel. She grew bored before long though, and walked back over to Noel. Unthinkingly, she sat so they were back-to-back. She nodded off soon after.

* * *

><p>Finishing the last volume of the very long series, Noel added it to the pile at his knee and stretched his arms out in front of him. The warm weight of Mog was still in his lap, and the smell of the pasta had long since faded.<p>

He craned his neck around to look at Serah. She was sleeping, leaning heavily against his back. Very carefully, he lifted Mog and put him in her arms. Then equally carefully, he held her up and rotated in his seat, so that her back was against his front. He looped loose arms around her. "Thank you," he told her, and then he fell asleep, too.


	2. That Which Cannot Be Seen

_**Title: **That Which Cannot Be Seen_  
><em><strong>Prompt: <strong>cie'th (from nyurt)_  
><em><strong>Rating: <strong>K_  
><em><strong>Words: <strong>622_  
><em><strong>Commentary: <strong>The title for this piece is based very loosely off of the famous lines from Le Petit Prince:_ on ne voit bien qu'avec le coeur. L'essentiel est invisible pour les yeux. _This translates roughly to:_ one sees best with the heart. What is essential is invisble to the eyes._ I felt that these lines suited this piece. As always, I appreciate the time you take to read and review._

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><p>You watch Noel out of the corner of your eye. You always watch him, in the absent way a partner keeps track of another partner, but this time is different. He's not fighting the way he usually does, swords out and blazing, whip-fast remarks on his tongue. He's oddly quiet, and you think he's distracted from the way he's moving a half-second slow.<p>

You cast several cures his way along with an esuna. He nods slightly in your direction by way of thanks, then springs forward to slash at the formidable Cie'th they're battling. Gorgyra is its name. An Academy employee told them its story, how killing it would release it from its torment. According to the legend, Gorgyra was once a dear friend of the seeress and her loyal Guardian. She was manipulated by an enemy, almost costing the seeress her life, and she never forgave herself for her mistake. She prayed for penance and lost her soul as a result, doomed to wander the earth for centuries as a Cie'th. The tale was too tragic.

Noel casts ruin now, which seems to have an effect. You throw flames at Gorgyra's body. The monster writhes. Noel fixes it with a steady look, his gaze never wavering as it dissolves beneath your combined efforts. As the Cie'th dies a strong breeze descends over the canyon, spreading the flames and swirling through the remains of Gorgyra. The breeze makes your hair stand on end and your skin prickle. As the wind passes your ear you think you hear it whisper a thanks to you. You dart a glance over to Noel - the tension in his neck tells you he heard it, too.

Then he flips his sword over his shoulder with a mindless ease and sheathes the other. He looks at you sidelong, nods up ahead, and turns, taking it for granted that you'll follow. You do. As you follow your eyes land on his back. He's stooped forward, ready for an attack from any side, though there's not a monster for miles. They've all been scared away. The anguish of Gorgyra was tangible even to them, it seems, the strength of its regret reaching through even its own lost humanity. Emotions this ancient are dangerous and frightening, after all.

You swallow nothing, eyes still on Noel. Though he hasn't told you much, you're a pretty good guesser.

When you arrive back at camp it's nighttime. Lamps light the way, yellow through their casings. The periodic flash over his face reveals that his expression has not changed for some time.

He's not the type for self-reflection. He knows himself, or at least the important parts. There are dangerous, hidden things about him though, things he has buried accidentally or intentionally, and they are things you cannot hope to touch. What you have between you is not enough, and you cannot hope to build a bridge to the very core of him, not when he's lost, too. His sadness is rooted deep, branching out to places even he may not understand. You incline your head. This is a battle neither of you can win.

"Noel," you say.

He turns, and every movement is laced with vulnerability. "Yeah?" he answers, trying at grace and ease.

You stare at him, at his handsome face and hurting eyes. You know then that words will fail you, so you step forward and wrap your arms around him. It's awkward at first, all elbows and hipbones, but then his arms come around you, too, and the awkwardness is simply gone.

He doesn't say a thing. But his tears slip down the back of your neck, and you know that while it may not be enough, it's still perfect.


	3. Beware of Dog

_**Title: **Beware of Dog_  
><em><strong>Prompt: <strong>sunsets (from fuzzyblankets)_  
><em><strong>Rating: <strong>T, for alcohol and language_  
><em><strong>Words: <strong>1294_  
><em><strong>Commentary: <strong>Beware not only of dog, but of a very happy Hope. I hope (heh) you don't mind, because I enjoyed writing this one way too much. (Please tell me you love Hope, too. He's my precious, sarcastic Director baby.) Now, please read on and I hope you enjoy. Reviews are sincerely appreciated!  
><em>

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><p>Hope was enjoying this party, he really was. His employees rarely got the chance to let their hair down with all this Cocoon-crashing-into-Pulse business, and three or four hours away from that could only be good, from a human resources standpoint at least.<p>

He glanced over worriedly at the bar. It was just that... he felt bad that Serah was working. When she'd heard that there was a company party, she'd quickly volunteered to mix drinks, citing "rustiness" and "Lebreau would kill me if I forgot any recipes" as reasons to stand for a full four hours and not get any pay for it. She waved off his offers of compensation with a firmness and mild annoyance that reminded him of Light.

As he approached, Serah zipped around from the other side of the wraparound counter. "Hey, Hope," she greeted as he sat on a stool, "Are you ready to try a cocktail?"

He held up a gloved hand in a silent rejection. At her raised eyebrow though, he mumbled, "Gin and tonic," which had her rolling her eyes, but appeased her somewhat.

He watched as she poured him a double. He scowled, but took a sip once she set it down in front of him. All he could think about was how unprofessional it would be if he got even a bit tipsy at this party.

His head jerked up as an employee took a seat on the stool next to him. Hope recognized the employee as a newly hired one - one of the ones Alyssa had advocated for. The man gave a cursory wave, which Hope returned.

"What would you like?" Serah asked, sounding accommodating.

When the man spoke, voice cracking, Hope concluded that he was a lot younger than he looked. "Dry martini," he told Serah. When she bent to retrieve the shaker from a low shelf, Hope saw his gaze deliberately and quickly go down her shirt. Hope narrowed his eyes and took another sip of his drink. He just about called Serah over to order her to stop working, when-

"Hey, Hope," Noel said, coming up on Hope's other side. He clapped a hand down on Hope's shoulder. "How's it going?"

Hope couldn't quite place it, but there was a tightness to Noel's voice that wasn't usually there. Filing this information away for the time being, Hope replied, "Not bad. Where have you been?"

Noel answered over the sound of Serah shaking the martini - "I was just sitting at the other side of the bar."

Hope piqued an eyebrow. "How old are you, again?"

Noel let out a good-natured laugh. "Eighteen. But I don't drink, anyway."

Hope's next question came fast on the heels of Noel's reply. "So why were you sitting at the bar? Why are you _still_ sitting at the bar?" He wasn't usually this nosy, but he kept seeing the flicker of the employee's eyes down Serah's shirt, and was trying to distract himself, was trying not to stand up and pull Serah away. He took another sip of his drink.

Surprisingly, Noel put his hand to the nape of his neck, fingers twining with some of his longer strands of hair. "Uh, nothing," he said, which sounded to Hope like a lie. But then Hope caught the quick look Noel cast up at Serah, serving the dirtbag employee his martini. Noel's eyes were trained on the man's face, his look severe.

"You're guarding Serah," Hope blurted, knowing his words were facilitated by the gin, but also knowing he'd hit the nail on the head. Especially when Noel's hand went to the back of his neck again.

"They just give her... looks," Noel attempted to explain in the fashion of a particularly obtuse twelve year-old.

"Like a guard dog," Hope muttered, hopefully too low for anyone to hear.

The tendons in Noel's neck suddenly began to stand out. Hope looked over to where Noel's gaze was angrily fixed, where the martini-drinker wasn't even bothering to conceal the lingering look he cast at Serah's behind as she tended to another patron.

"Excuse me," Noel said in a low voice to Hope, standing.

Hope leant back on his stool and clapped a hand down on Noel's shoulder. Then he told Noel, "He looked down her shirt, too."

Hope was simultaneously pleased and amused to see Noel's glare change to edge on murderous. "Thanks," Noel whispered. Then off he strode to take a seat by the scumbag, immediately diving into conversation. Hope wished he could see the other guy's face. Judging by how fast the jerk left, Hope imagined he looked about ready to wet his pants. He smiled into his drink, then downed the rest of it.

Noel sat himself down next to Hope just as Serah came over, already plucking up his empty glass. She was nothing if not an attentive barkeep. "How was it?" she asked him.

"Not what I ordered," he answered, which earned him a laugh from her. "But it was great, thank you."

She turned to Noel, who was stewing a bit. Hope wanted to snicker for the first time in about five years. "Noel, still don't want to try a cocktail?" she poked at him, trying to lighten his mood.

Noel looked up into her face then, and from Hope's (slightly inebriated) third-person perspective, he couldn't see how they couldn't see what was going on. It was comically obvious.

"Fine," Noel acquiesced quietly, still locking gazes with Serah.

She gave him a quizzical look, but let his attitude go. "Great! What would you like, then?"

"Whatever you recommend," Noel answered, warming up slightly.

A gleam was in her eye. "Perfect," she said, whirling and finding three, tall glasses. Hope and Noel watched her move confidently around the bar, finding all the components necessary to mix up her choice of poison.

"Long night got you trying alcohol, huh?" Hope prodded, wanting to get a rise out of the self-appointed guard dog.

Noel might've mumbled a "shut up", but Hope was too busy choking on his own laughter to listen. But then his gaze zeroed in on another young employee pulling up to the bar, smiling slick at Serah. Hope instantly looked to Noel, who was glaring the absolute shit out of the new man.

"Three tequila sunsets," Serah announced, placing a glass each in front of Hope and Noel. Hope took the drink in hand, knowing his goal for the night was fruitless already. Noel took his drink up, too, though he was watching the new guy from the corner of his eye.

Serah held up her own drink. "Tell me how it tastes, Noel," she said cheerily.

"I propose a toast," Hope interjected suddenly, smoothing down his tie. "To Serah," he said, tossing a look Noel's way.

Noel gave him the flattest stare possible. "To Serah," he repeated, making it a point to clink his glass only with Serah's, then took a mighty gulp of the drink, ignoring the straw. He all but slammed the glass down. "Excuse me," he said, standing, ready to defend Serah's honour once again.

She followed him with her eyes, sipping innocently on her own drink. "What's he doing?" she asked Hope.

Hope just watched with glee as the man's face drained of blood. He stiffly stood, then tottered away, as if particularly afraid for his genitalia. He had only a second to examine Noel's tired, but still infuriated face before there came a tap on his shoulder.

This couldn't get any better. "Director," a male employee whispered confidentially. "You probably shouldn't sit at the bar for too long. I've heard from some of the other guys that that guy over there is the bartender's psychopathic boyfriend."

Hope wanted to fall to the floor laughing.


	4. Not Yet

_**Title:** Not Yet_  
><em><strong>Prompt:<strong> Noel getting lost in time and ending up in the past where Serah just found out she was a l'Cie (from rhythmmixer)_  
><em><strong>Rating: <strong>K_  
><em><strong>Words: <strong>1536_  
><em><strong>Commentary: <strong>This one had me balking, but once I started, it came very naturally. I quite like this one!__ As usual, I hope you like it, too! Reviews are always welcome.  
><em>

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><p>Noel watched as the little white puff ball poofed out of existence and into a bow. He caught it in both hands.<p>

"A good luck charm. Give him to Serah," Lightning said.

He looked to the warrior in front of him. Something in her expression was so critical. He shifted the bow to one hand and closed his other into a fist. "You got it. I'll track her down," he promised.

She examined him a second, then nodded her approval.

* * *

><p>Noel grunted as the gate spit him out a few feet above hot sand. He rolled onto his knees and stood. He shook his feet - sand in his shoes. The bow had fallen into the sand as well, and he stooped to pick it up. He looked around, getting his bearings.<p>

He had fallen onto a beach. The ocean stretched out endlessly in front of him, the rays of the setting sun bouncing off of the surface, the sky a perfect duplicate as reflected in the water. Around him, dotted over various parts of the sand were couples holding hands, digging their toes into the sand, scratching messages out for each other. So engrossed they were in each other that they hadn't seen him land.

Behind him was a town. Unlike his own, he could quickly see that this town was thoroughly alive. The occasional high-pitched squeal from a baby came. Thumping music drifted out from open windows. The scuffling of children playing in the street underscored it all. His eyes darted this way and that, picking out figures that may be helpful or could be trouble. The fastest way to find a person he knew nothing about was to ask.

He started up the beach, ignoring the sinking and resettling of sand beneath his feet as he moved. He kept seeing uniformed officers, and decided on asking a uniformed woman about the whereabouts of Serah. His experience was that women kept track of individuals better than men, and were often more forthcoming when questioned. He wished he'd asked Lightning for Serah's last name.

Thrown off by the new environment and lost in his own head, Noel sensed the girl barreling past him too late. He came to just as her left arm collided with his, and on the unstable terrain of sand (and against his comparative solidness), she fell. He fast dropped the bow, turned to her and offered her a hand.

"Hey, are you okay?" he asked her, not one to apologize for something he hadn't done, but also concerned - she had hit him fairly hard, enough that his arm was stinging a bit still.

Dazedly, she reached out to him. Her hand was soft, cool and limp in his own as he helped to pull her up. As she stood, a band from around her arm came undone and fluttered into the sand.

He bent over and picked it up. As she stood in front of him, blinking her confusion away, he offered it to her. "This yours?"

Beneath the sparse cover of her bangs, he saw her eyes widen. Eyes- eyes that looked familiar. And the hair. The hair that was, of all colours, pink. This was-

"Are you-" was all he got out.

She snatched the band from his open palm, turned and ran.

"Hey!" he called to her retreating back. This was Lightning's sister, Serah! The one he had to find, and the one who he had to give this bow to. He plucked the bow up and gave chase. He saw that as she ran she tried to fix the band back around her arm, and this made her slower. He caught up to her fast, didn't think twice about grabbing her wrist.

The intake of breath he heard from her was high-pitched and shuddery. She bent her arm at the elbow, tried to pull away. "Don't hurt me, please," she asked of him, her voice tearful.

He let her go quickly. Surprised, she didn't run.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he told her seriously. It came out sounding like a vow. He dropped the bow onto the sand.

She looked up at him with wide blue eyes, frozen.

All of a sudden, the band, already loosely tied, fell from her arm again. As it fell, it revealed a symmetrical twisting of thick, black lines. His eyes moved from the design to her face. She was looking at it, too. Somewhere in the distance, a girl's laughter trilled, followed by that of a man.

"Well, now you know for sure," she told him, sounding oddly resigned. "What are you going to do?"

Maybe it was the look in her eyes. She looked infinitely sad and defeated, and it bubbled all at the surface, raw and hurting. Whatever it was, he moved to face her, gently gripped her arms, and looked into her eyes. He didn't need to know what this marking was. "I'm not going to hurt you. I promise you."

Her eyebrows came together ruefully. She gulped nothing. Pumped full of adrenaline, she was shaky and looking like she might take off any minute. Uncertainty darted her gaze all over his face. "You're touching it," she told him softly. "Aren't you scared you'll turn, too?"

He blinked down at her. He gave a shake of his head. "What's there to be scared of?"

She broke eye-contact with him, staring down at the pendant he wore around his neck. Her eyebrows tightened in confusion. Her breaths came quicker and quicker.

He knew she was going to cry before the first tears fell. Unfamiliarity with her held him back from doing something. Instinct told him to keep his hand on her left arm though, and he did. He absently ran his hand over her skin, his hands rough against the smoothness of her arm. She sat down in the sand, so he sat, too. A glance up at the horizon told him it was nearly sunset. Tears still silently ran down her face as she stared up at the sky beside him, and the occasional jump in her chest told him she was close to stopping. She looked over at him. He looked to her, too.

When their gazes met and he looked into the watery, seaglass blue of her eyes, he knew it for sure - this wasn't the Serah he was supposed to find. This Serah was all too vulnerable, not ready for a journey yet. She still had a lot to go through. He'd have to keep on searching.

"It- it might not mean much to y-you, but what you've done means a lot to me," she told him, her words hitching in certain places from crying.

His fingers lifted from her arm, then came back again. "It means a lot," he agreed with her.

She swallowed nothing again, eyes flickering to the sand, then back up to his face. "Thank you."

He shook his head once. "It's no problem." He looked out across the sea. The sun had half-disappeared behind the horizon.

"What's your name?" she asked him, wiping tears from her cheeks with her thumbs.

He paused. "You'll find out eventually," he said. His hand landed on the bow. He stood up, sand falling from his clothes.

She furrowed her brow, confused. She looked up at him and tried to smile. "What? When?"

He opened his mouth, then shut it again. Another look at the sun - almost all the way down. "Later," he told her warmly.

She stood, too, not bothering to brush at the sand on her outfit. She sensed his leaving. Doubt had quick gripped at her wrists again. Her eyes were panicked.

Reading her easily, he reached out, deliberately touching the ominous black design on her arm. At his touch, her eyes became slightly more sure. "Stay strong, alright?" he asked of her. "I'll see you later."

The look in her eyes as he took off down the beach would stay with him - the fear and the confusion were most prominent, making her eyes glow. But beneath it all he saw the beginnings of resolve. This was what he took to heart.

* * *

><p>A new gate, a new place. Another beach. The sky was dark, and there were monsters dotting the sand. He looked down beneath him. Pink hair. One guess.<p>

A monster lunged at her, and she fell back.

He yelled down, "You want her? Then you're gonna have to go through me!"

She looked up, fast, searching for where the exclamation had come from. Her eyes fixed on him, then widened. Surprise was the first thing that flashed across those familiar eyes. He stared down at her for a second longer than normal, looking deep. She was older, but not by much. The beginnings of laugh lines had formed at the corners of her eyes and her mouth was etched a bit deeper into her face. She looked a smidgen more tan and her arms looked more muscular. No black marking.

And then he looked into her eyes. He saw impatience and frustration and disbelief and _want_. He smiled to himself, then jumped down to meet her.

This was the Serah he had been looking for.


	5. Burn

_**Title: **Burn_  
><em><strong>Prompt: <strong>angst (from loveis-neverover)_  
><em><strong>Rating: <strong>T, for mentions of sex_  
><em><strong>Words: <strong>415_  
><em><strong>Commentary: <strong>Just in case I get questions on this, I absolutely write within different continuities for this collection, so the Serah and Noel you see here are not reflective of the rest of the Serahs and Noels you'll see later on, or have seen previously. Now, read on, and I'd love for you to leave your thoughts. I haven't ever written this side of them.  
><em>

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><p>She feels dirty as she lies back on the sweaty sheets, panting beneath him. The shack is small and windowless, closing the air in, stinking of sex. She keeps her eyes closed but she can't not breathe, so she inhales the evidence of their lovemaking, wanting to heave.<p>

He curls in beside her, wrapping his naked body around hers. His chest is hot against her arm, his arm thrown over her chest is hot, too. She finds it inconceivable that he should want to cuddle immediately after having her, but he does. He presses a kiss to her shoulder as if in confirmation.

She nearly flinches.

He lets a contented hum out against her skin and it vibrates up her arm, and this time she does pull away, rolling away from him. He follows, unabashed, quickly pressing her back to his front, where all the parts of her that contact him feel as if they'll burst into flame. He closes a muscular arm around her, not minding that they are connected in a sweaty embrace. He kisses her along the back of her neck and her spine, and she feels absolutely nothing lustful in those kisses - they are the work of pure, idle love.

She wants to pull away.

She knows she should stop. When she turned away from Snow it was due to a lack of love, and in the same motion she turned to Noel, who was there, who was perfect, who was willing to fill up the loneliness she felt in her heart. Who she was willing to use to keep it all at bay. She had pulled him tighter and tighter until they couldn't get any closer, not unless they were pressed up against each other, stripped bare and fucking like there was no tomorrow.

She should have stopped mid-turn. But it's too late. She can't love him the way he loves her - with absolute reverence and security, with no shame at all. With innocence shining in those beautiful blue eyes. He loves the way they do in legend - endlessly. She can't love him like that. She hates herself too much.

His hands roam, pads of his fingertips ghosting gently over the hills and valleys of her body, lingering here and there. Against her behind, she can feel him stiffening, ready to take her once again. Still, his lips find her neck. His fingers intertwine with her limp ones. "I love you," he whispers.

She wants to cry.


	6. Between the Sky and His Eyes

_**Title: **Between the Sky and His Eyes_  
><em><strong>Prompt: <strong>star gazing (from loopholelola)_  
><em><strong>Rating: <strong>K_  
><em><strong>Words: <strong>864_  
><em><strong>Commentary: <strong>I hope you enjoy this nighttime romance! (Especially after some of the brain scrubbing from the last prompt fill!) This one was sweet to write. Noel and Serah are sweet. Your continued support of this collection keeps encouraging me to update regularly, so thank you.  
><em>

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><p>They're in the Plains of Eternity, where she's challenged him to climb atop one of the rock formations. It's part of an ongoing game of theirs - a game composed entirely of Dares and no Truths. He tosses her a look like <em>what do you think I am?<em>, but she knows he only makes the face for her benefit, and puts a hand between his shoulderblades, pushing him forward. She knows he'll do it.

The sheep are disturbed from their dozing, letting out irritated bleats when he invades their napping grounds. "Sorry," he says simply, generally, and they just continue to amble past his feet, radiating outward in slow motion, half-hearted sheep noises echoing out and getting lost in the tall grass. Serah casts her gaze all around the steppe. This night has a kind of _feel_, the air blowing sweet and the sky not too close and not too far.

She giggles as a sheep brushes her leg - it tickles. But then she directs her attention to the rock in front of her, where Noel is already halfway up. His hands are finding holds she can't see, and he's pulling himself up in no time, perching atop the rock with a nonchalance she has to grin at.

His chin is resting in his palm, and his elbow is propped up on a knee. "Your turn," he proclaims.

She gestures at herself in a show of surprise. _Who, me?_ she's saying, silently.

He piques his eyebrows and reads her mind. "Yeah, you." He directs a long, tan arm at the adjacent rock, not peaking quite as high as his own. "Go on," he urges.

Feigning exhaustion, she approaches the rock. She looks up at it, scoping out hand and footholds, planning her path. Beyond the top of the rock is the dark sky, speckled with shining stars. She thinks that if she climbs, she'll be _that_ much closer to the sky.

"The night's not getting any younger," he calls out, in a mischevious mood tonight, and she turns around to shoot him a half-hearted glare. He just offers her an easy grin, and she's long grown immune to his charm but her stomach flips anyway. He flicks his eyes up to the sky. "The sky's nice tonight," he comments, echoing her thoughts.

When he says that, a spark works its way up her spine. It makes her climbing a little harder, but not by much. She's taking a seat before she knows it.

It's beautiful up here. It's hard to believe that just a few metres could make such a difference, but it's like she's sitting among the stars.

"Pretty incredible, right?" his voice reaches her, and it adds to the magic of the night, a tendril reaching out to touch her shoulder.

She's quiet, getting lost in it all. The stars wink at her, the best of secret keepers, occasionally disappearing to hide behind the black cloth of the sky. She inhales deeply, feeling a small sense of majesty grow within her. Wanting to share it all, she rotates slowly on her behind to face in his direction just as he turns to her.

Though they're a good distance apart, she can still see the smile on his face. Something passes between them, and it's warm and it makes her smile back.

Then he points toward the ground. "I dare you to jump."

Her smile turns into a doubtful one. _Fat chance,_ she's saying, and he knows it. She's mildly shocked when he takes the initiative and falls first, landing in a balanced crouch.

"Come on," he beckons, waving her down.

She raises an eyebrow and pulls her legs in, even though there's no way he could reach up and pull on her ankles.

He shakes his head and extends a hand up to her. "I'll catch you," he says.

Her gaze moves from the sky to his face, looking up at her in earnest. She's probably imagining it, but she thinks she sees stars reflected in his eyes and looks for awhile longer.

She jumps, and he's right there, pillowing her fall. He even twirls her in a half-circle, and she squawks in protest, shutting her eyes.

"Wait," he says, and puts her down. Her feet remold to the earth again. He jogs about five paces away and turns back to face her, and it is right then that she reopens her eyes.

She watches him watching her. She notices that with the way the earth spans so flat beneath them, he looks as if he is standing alone in a field of stars. She just can't figure out what he's doing, not even as he returns. Her hands come up to land gently on his broad chest as he wraps his arms around her and drops a warm kiss on her forehead.

"What were you doing?" she asks, her face pressed to his collarbone.

He leans away for a bit to look her in the eye. His answer makes her want to bop him on the head for being so cheesy, but she just can't because it's him, and because she was doing the same, after all.

"Star gazing."


	7. Fate and Freedom, Redux

_**_**This is a gentle reminder to those who have given me prompts that I require feedback on the fill I've done for you, as outlined in the original prompt fill post! As a writer, I'd like to know if I've written the prompt to your satisfaction.**_**_

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><p><em><strong>Title:<strong> Fate and Freedom, Redux_  
><em><strong>Prompt:<strong> A dark!AU for Noel/Serah. As in, taking place in a paradox ending (from satellitesdreaming, now lavendre)_  
><em><strong>Rating<strong>: K+_  
><em><strong>Words:<strong> 1950_  
><em><strong>Commentary:<strong> As I'm sure you can tell from the title, this takes place during the paradox ending Fate and Freedom. It's not entirely necessary that you've played it to understand, but it definitely helps with visualizing! I don't often write in first-person, so please forgive me if this sounds awkward. I sincerely hope it doesn't! I hope you enjoy reading, and feedback is welcome._

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><p>It's been a long time now that Lightning's been back. I can't quite remember what she had left to do, or why she left in the first place, but I don't think I need to know. She's here, and I know that her presence has squeezed out so many of the negative feelings I was carrying around in my heart. My memories are foggy, but I can still feel what was buried deep within - almost as if it were a bruise that didn't heal quite right. There was urgency and anguish, there were a lot of tears. There was self-doubt and self-hatred. I gulp, on the edge of those feelings, and then I step back. No need to take the plunge, now.<p>

I draw my legs in from where they were hanging over the pier. Even though it's shallow, I suddenly don't feel safe. The water looks a shade grayer.

"Serah, what're you doing out here?"

I turn away from the water, already knowing who it is. The question - it's not one that wants an answer. "Snow," I greet him, standing.

"Come on, we're all waiting for you," he says, taking me by the hand. Strangely, his hand feels too large, too hot and sweaty. I know I'm cold, though.

I look from our joined hands, up the length of his arm, to the ever-present stubble along his jaw. Even though his hand is clamped tight around mine, I feel a disconnect. It's like this every time I sit at the end of the dock and my mind gets to wandering. I have to make my way back to this place, bit by bit. "Who's waiting? What's going on?"

Snow just grins confidently as he always does. It's a short walk back to NORA house over the sand, and then he's letting go of my hand, throwing up his arms in front of a crowd. "Happy anniversary!" he calls excitedly, booming loud over the well-wishes of our friends.

I'm genuinely surprised. There's a cake and balloons and Yuj, Gadot, Maqui, Lebreau, even Sazh and Dajh, come down as a surprise. Lightning's sitting at the table, not as excited but still smiling. I- I... Today is our anniversary?

"She's speechless," Snow announces to everyone's laughter. He pulls me into his arms and kisses me right there. I don't know how to respond, what to say or feel. I'm bouncing around from one set of arms to the next, everyone bombarding me with hugs and congratulations, and all I can do is try to smile back, stunned.

I forgot it was our anniversary. How could I- my own husband-

The cake needs cutting, so I take a knife in hand and start slicing mechanically.

And then... and then as I'm standing there, I realize that I've never known what day it is. I've never bothered to know, not when the days are all the same, their uniform perfection blending them all together into one. I've never needed to keep track of time here...

"Serah, this cake is delicious," Lebreau tells me, and I can only give her what must be a blank stare. "Don't tell me you baked your own surprise anniversary party cake."

"I made it," Maqui steps forward. He grins lopsidedly, like he always does. "Turns out cooking is a rare art form. Kind of like mechanics."

The laughter that erupts from everyone seems too loud in my ears, ringing, echoing. The knife drops from my hand onto the table. My eyes dart every which way, blindly. All I can think about is what day it is. I can't think of a number or a week, even a _month_...

"Whoa, Serah. Careful," Snow says, and I don't know what he's talking about until he looks from my face to the knife laying on the table.

I know it's my wedding anniversary and it's not right to ask what day it is. Maybe I'll wait until tomorrow. But... this need to know is pulling at me.

* * *

><p>After the party ends, I wave bye to everybody and go to my bedroom and sit on the edge of my bed. I inspect the walls for sign of a calendar, but there is none. I look out the window at the sky, dark clouds rolling. I feel unsettled in a way that I haven't been for a long time. Just as long as Lightning's been back. Something's trying to get my attention, tapping the windowpanes of my subconscious. <em>Let me in,<em> it whispers, and I know I'm cowering away, afraid of what might come in with it.

I'm so lost in thought that I don't hear Lightning come in. "Serah. How are you feeling?"

I look up at her, at my sister. This question of hers, it's different from Snow's. It's pitched in concern. It wants to hear my answer. Suddenly, I feel my eyes fill with tears. "Lightning! I'm so confused," - I harness the most docile of my swirling thoughts - "Where- Where's my calendar?"

She looks at me calmly, like she always does. "You don't have one," she answers.

_No. _"That can't be," I insist, flashing my teeth at her in a shaky smile.

"Serah, you're tired. Why don't you go to sleep?" Lightning says to me, turning away, her half-cape stirring the stale air. The smile, false as it is, slides off of my face. "Have pleasant dreams."

_No, _the voice whispers again. I stand up. "Lightning, what are you hiding from me?"

"Sleep now, Serah," she tells me again, and she's leaving, and I don't want her to-

"_Wait!_" I call desperately.

She halts.

"When... when are you going to work? I'll make your lunch," I say, trying to put this scene back on track. I hate myself for it. Something flickers in me. The last time I felt this way, Lightning had been missing-

But my sister only shakes her head. "I don't go to work," she says.

What? How... how long has this been going on for? With dread, I feel as if I've known the answer all along. I look at her, tension mounting in my neck and jaw.

"You wanted me here with you," she recites, like it's an explanation, and I already know what she'll say. "I'm always here."

_No. No. No, no, no..._

The feeling from the pier is clawing at me, rabid, dragging me down, wanting to drown me. The self-doubt, the feeling of weakness, of inadequacy. Not enough. I'm not enough to help people... Snow told me to wait, and I should. There's not enough time, not to do anything...!

There's an opposing force, a tapping on my shoulders. It becomes more insistent, demanding my attention. _Look at me,_ it screams, _Look! _And so I whirl around, eyes wide open for the next fresh horror-

It's me. It's the mirror that I don't remember putting in my room. The picture it reflects back at me shows me the wildness in my eyes, and the tears I had forgot I was crying. I stare at myself, frozen. I have always been afraid of this mirror.

The longer I look, the more I realize about this place. How the skies are always cloaked in thick, never-ending clouds, how the sun never seems to fully rise. How could I... have been so blind?

The vision in the mirror begins to fade to black. _I_ begin to fade to black in that frame. I panic, thrust out my hands and try to yank it off the wall but it stays put. I feel sleepy, but I somehow know that if I fall asleep I'll forget everything that happened today, and I don't want to forget. I don't want to forget, as painful as it is, because all of it is _me_. All this time! It had been me. Calling me.

_Wait!_ A thought shoots into my mind, white-hot - there's something else. Some... _one_ else. I feel a calm begin to leak through my system, forcing me to breathe. I grip the mirror, tight, trying to remember. Who?

I gulp, swallowing courage. Double blades. A fighter, then. Brown hair. A man. Maybe a boy. I close my eyes, and his form dances across my eyelids, moving swiftly with confidence. Definitely a man.

My breath fogs up the darkening mirror as I exhale. Clothing... not of this world. Wings on his back. An errant thought flits in, warm, familiar: _Like an angel. A Guardian._

Holes in my memory. I grasp at anything I can find. I remember standing by his side, holding a bow. I remember his hand on his chin. I remember thin straps, zigzagging up his forearm, knotted at his elbow. I'm getting sleepy. My grip tightens on the mirror's frame, metal digging into my palms. Something else about him... I stare into the black beseechingly. _His name. Give me his name._

And then the scenes all blur in my mind, a mix of colour and light, and there he is, thumb pointing at his own torso, eyes so blue as he introduces himself to me for the first time. My lips form his name just as he says his own, and it feels so, so right to say it - _"Noel. Noel Kreiss."_

Light bursts forth from the mirror, the darkness dispelled. I have to fall back or be blinded.

"Serah!" calls a voice, and I know it's him. Noel. I'm on the floor still, rubbing my eyes.

I feel a presence settle beside me, a hand between my shoulderblades, the other hand holding mine. He's warm, and for once, so am I. He hugs me to him. "You're okay," he says into my hair. "I thought I'd lost you." His voice nearly cracks in relief.

When I open my eyes again I see that the mirror has not stopped shining. I know right away that it was Noel's portal into this false world.

I jerk my gaze over to him. My memories of our journey returned in full when I said his name, and yet, I don't remember him ever holding me like this.

He's still worried, eyes darting this way and that, assessing my condition. "Serah?"

My name on his lips, and I can't help but smile, exhausted as I am. My smile grows when I say his, "Noel."

I realize that he's not holding my hand as he usually does - he's holding my hand like a lover, our fingers laced together. He presses our palms together, tight. "I'm so glad you woke up," he tells me. "I wish I could have done more."

Everything about him is so overwhelmingly familiar, so welcome. His attitude, his face, his smell, his warmth. He's the same. But this sameness doesn't scare me. If anything, I want to hold on. The self-doubt, the self-hatred, the uncertainty and the tears all feel small in his presence. I look into his eyes. "You did help. I woke up because I remembered you."

He smiles, and it's sincere as it always is. There's a pause before he says, "I'm glad, then." He helps me to stand, releases my hand. He steps off to the side of the mirror, making the way for me. "Let's get out of here. What do you say?"

As I never have before, I take his hand in mine and fit my fingers between his. "Together," I say as I smile at him. He smiles back, fingers contracting around mine. Then we walk into the mirror and the light engulfs us. Nothing could be more right, to wake from this dream and to leave it - to continue this journey, fully awakened, with him right beside me to hold onto.


	8. Talk the Talk

_**Title: **Talk the Talk_  
><em><strong>Prompt: <strong>small talk (from fuzzyblankets)_  
><em><strong>Rating: <strong>T_  
><em><strong>Words: <strong>2436_  
><em><strong>Commentary:<strong> This one is literally hot off the presses! After not updating Sunday, I figured I had to get this one in. This one's a three parter, all within the same night. The concept of this was fun to write. And Hope's in this one, too. Teehee. Well, I hope you enjoy, and feedback is always appreciated!_

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><p>1. STRAIGHT TALK<p>

"Not your best colour," she told him.

He piqued an eyebrow at her as she came to stand behind him and frame them both in the mirror. "What's your opinion then, oh fashion-enlightened one?" he asked her.

Serah tip-toed, reached both arms over his shoulders and presented two different ties.

They had been invited to a formal dinner by Hope tonight. As rogue time travellers finding the graviton cores necessary to levitate the new world, they had attracted quite a lot of attention. Hope decided that now was as good a time as any to introduce them to the world and assure the public of "the legitimacy of your actions". Like you needed a reason other than avoiding imminent doom than to protect a planet.

Around Noel's neck was a white tie. Against the white of his dress shirt, it just wasn't doing it for her. In her hands she held a black tie and a deep blue tie. She held them up to dangle alongside his cheeks and over his shoulders.

He inched his eyebrows higher. He didn't bother to say what he was thinking.

Serah already knew what he was thinking. "It's a process. I need to see what would look best with the suit and with you," she explained. As she said this, she allowed her eyes to roam over him in his suit.

The suit had been provided by the Academy (surprise, surprise). One evening last week, when they'd visited Hope at the Academy headquarters, he'd sprung a tailor on them both. If this was a televised, formal dinner, they would definitely need to be wearing more impressive attire than what they always wore. Noel had crossed his arms - what did _that _mean? - to Hope's sure-sounding chuckle. That was when Serah explained formal events, dresses and suits, how these were gatherings of importance, when you saw people from the upper echelons of society and dressed your best to impress.

"You always look beautiful," he stated baldly, which had her blushing quick. Darting her gaze to Hope - who was smirking - and back to Noel, she accused him of flattery.

"Nope. You always do," he told her again, his gaze steady on her face.

Remembering this, her mouth quirked up at a corner.

Noel saw her from over his shoulder, reflected in the mirror still. "What's funny?"

She shook her head. "Nothing." She took a moment to assess the ties once more. The black was more formal, a classic match for the black suit and white shirt. But the blue was gorgeous, and now she saw that it brought out his eyes maliciously well. Noel was not the average guy, anyway. Blue it was. She laid it over his shoulder and whisked away the white tie.

His fingers came up to pull the blue tie from his shoulder. He eyed it like it was a puzzle.

After returning the ties to their places, she strode back over to him. "Here," she said, holding her arms out. She took the tie in both hands and looped it around his neck. Cross, under, over, up and around...

She tied it perfectly on her first try. Not bad. When she finished, adjusting the dimple at the tie's junction, Noel put his hands on her waist. He must have been nervous, because he wasn't the type to fish for compliments. "How do I look?"

Not looking up at him yet, she buttoned his suit jacket. She smoothed her hands over his chest. He looked very, very good. Despite never having worn one before, he could sure wear a suit.

She looked him in the eye. "Very handsome," she answered.

Noel's mouth seemed to shift to form a few different shapes before settling on a smile. He blew air out his nose amusedly, as if his looks were a joke. Then he looked down at her before him, clad in a column of black and white ending with a pair of shoes that could only be described as ankle-breakers. "You look beautiful," he told her.

She balanced her forearms on his shoulders. She leant into him. The shoes really helped bring her closer to his eye level. "Flatterer," she whispered.

He leant into her, too. Then he pressed his lips to hers. "Nope," he said, voice so sure as she recovered from his kiss, "You always look beautiful."

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><p>2. SMALL TALK<p>

If she were ever to work for the Academy, she definitely wasn't applying to the Public Relations Department. The woman briefing them seemed more stressed than even Hope ever did.

The PR lady paced back and forth across the hallway. "The press is invited for only the first two hours of the event and will be escorted out after the speech Director Estheim gives. This is when he will introduce you with your pre-approved profiles - I trust you have read these over?"

They both barely had time to nod before she started again.

"He will give you both a clear lead-in. That is when you stand, approach the platform, andpleaseGodI'mbeggingyou, _don't_ trip up the stairs. Then you each stand behind the podium and make your statements about your investment in the future and your absolute belief in the Academy. Miss Farron first, Mister Kreiss last. While you are standing at the podium, _do not_ look into the lights. _Do not_ speak too quickly. _Do not _fidget with your garments or hair. Is all of this clear, before we head in?"

Noel gave her a solid yes and Serah chirped her agreement.

"Good," the woman said, seeming to exhale all the air in her lungs out at once. Then, jerking her head toward the door, she walked into the ballroom.

Noel gave Serah an alluring smile. "Ready, Miss Farron?"

She bit her lip. Then she steeled herself. "Ready."

He pressed a light kiss to her temple. She grabbed his hand, squeezed, and let go in a heartbeat. They began to walk in together.

She could feel the scrutiny the second they entered. Cameramen and photographers lurked from behind their equipment all along the edges of the high-ceilinged room. Affluent older men and women turned to them, raking eyes quickly over their forms. Even some of the young Academy employees they knew fake whistled or hooted. One such employee walked over to them, fast.

"Whoa, you guys clean up good," a short blond by the name of Tino commented. He hit Noel in the shoulder - one, two - and shook Serah's hand with both of his.

"This guy's a moron," insisted another employee sauntering over. Serah saw a bit of swagger, obvious confidence from his easy good looks. He delivered as she expected - "He means to say that you look incredible," he told her, pumping her hand a bit too long. "Gareth," he said, smiling.

"Serah," she supplied. "This is Noel," she introduced fast, pulling her hand away in order to gesture at Noel.

"What's up, man," Gareth said, markedly less enthusiastic.

Noel smiled all the same. "Hey."

"Noel, Serah," Hope's voice came from beyond the little huddle, beckoning.

"Excuse us," Noel said lowly, extricating himself from the circle to start in Hope's direction. He took Serah's hand almost by reflex, and she closed her fingers around his instinctively.

Hope watched them approach with a growing smile on his face. It was then that Serah was reminded of Hope's earlier smirk, and she dropped Noel's hand, face heating up.

"Serah, Noel, these are the mayors of the municipalities lying just outside of Academia, Gwendolyn Strong and Derrick Jun," Hope said amicably. Serah noticed for the first time that Hope was clad in his Academy uniform, as ever, but without the weaponry. He'd taken off his gloves as well.

She smiled and shook hands with both strangers, as did Noel. "I did some reading - you both won your campaigns with landslide votes," she said.

They were both sufficiently buttered up from the looks on their faces. "How impressive," Gwendolyn crooned, "For a time traveller to know so."

"I try," she said, to much laughter.

"The reforms you implemented recently were impressive as well, Mr. Jun," Noel said suddenly.

Serah looked to Noel. Her jaw nearly dropped. She'd always thought him the type to avoid small talk, but she appeared to be wrong. As they bantered back and forth, she saw him easing into the conversation. Hope looked on, also surprised but pleased.

She wanted to take Noel's hand, run her fingers through his hair. She wanted to tell him that he was amazing for diving right into this unfamiliar world and that she loved him for it. He continued to astound her, always.

Hope began to speak to the mayors, and Noel turned back to her. He gave her a wink. She had to smile.

* * *

><p>3. DIRTY TALK<p>

After their speeches and what sounded like enthusiastic applause, the major press outlets were escorted out. Their PR agent for the night approached their table at a fast clip. Her heels had her tottering across the hardwood floor and her behind jerking from side to side in a way that reminded Serah (guiltily) of an ostrich.

"Okay, Serah, Noel, the media giants have left, but I want you both to be wary of private reporters that could be hanging around," she told them, gaze lighting between them. Her eyebrows were severe, as was the downturn of her lips. "Watch your actions, alright? Good job on your speeches earlier," she signed off, giving the backs of their chairs emphatic pats, then ran back through the crowd, clipboard close to her chest. Serah watched her retreat, and again thought that she herself could never go into Public Relations.

Noel mirrored her thoughts, saying, "She seems pretty stressed for this being such a nice night."

Serah turned to him, eyes landing first on his deep blue tie and following the silk up to his chin, his smile, the point of his nose and finally, his ever-blue eyes.

Strange enough, she realized he was right. Even though it was far removed from the rhythm of their days, there was an energy to this night that had lit them both up. Instead of exhausting them both like she expected, it invigorated them. "It is nice, isn't it?" she murmured.

He blinked, breath catching at her comment. She blinked right back. She could see that he was resisting the urge to kiss her. So she smiled a bit wider, letting some impishness curve her lips, too.

_You want to kiss me and it's not going to happen,_ her smirk said.

Noel's gaze turned mildly cutting, but he piqued an eyebrow. _You wicked girl._

She flashed her teeth at him, then turned back to the table fully. She picked up her fork - she had stopped in the middle of her slice of mousse-

And she dropped the fork again, barely managing to contain the clatter it made against her plate, because at that moment, Noel's hand landed on her knee beneath the table. She jerked her gaze over to him, intending to ask what he was doing, but was met with only his unconcerned profile. She saw that he was talking to another man at their table, nodding occasionally and making one or two word comments.

She had just picked up her fork again when his hand shifted. She felt his fingers pry past the layers of dress surrounding her legs. Soon enough, she was shakily forking dessert into her mouth as his fingers met with her bare skin. And he was still talking to that random patron like nothing else was going on.

Beneath the tablecloth, his fingers travelled up the inside of her thigh. Her throat was gradually drying itself out, so she took frequent sips of water from her glass. Her eyes darted all over the room, just waiting for them to be caught. But she couldn't - _just couldn't _- tell him to stop. His fingers inched up agonizingly slowly, punishing her. She sat very, very still. She finished her mousse and licked her lips, feeling the burning trail left in the wake of his fingers.

_You are mine._

The stranger Noel was talking to bid him goodbye and Noel returned it normally enough. It was then that his gaze settled briefly on hers. He had his own glass in hand, and keeping his eyes locked on her, took a sip of his water and gulped it down, Adam's apple bobbing.

She wanted to shift so, so badly in her seat. But all she could do was watch Noel lean closer to her and feel his fingers move beneath her dress and to the edge of her panties.

"I want you," he said into her ear.

She felt tingles shoot up her spine and her hands grow slick with sweat. She tried to think of something quick and witty, but all she could think was that his breath was moving past her bare shoulder and his hair was tickling her neck and his hand was gripping her thigh possessively.

His other hand rose to brush through the curls of her hair - surely everyone could see - but on he went, whispering words into her ear. His voice was positively sultry. "Any chance I could have you?"

Her breath, held up until now, came gushing out involuntarily. She stared at the handle of her spoon. Not trusting her voice, she nodded once.

She could practically feel his smile against her skin. "I'll be waiting," he told her. The tablecloth rustled as he pulled away, standing. After a few handshakes and waves, he was walking across the marble floors and disappearing up the elevators.

After letting her breathing settle again, Serah cast a furtive glance across the whole of the room. No one seemed to be paying her any attention. She adjusted her dress and stood, feeling shaky in her high heels. She continued though, pushing her chair back into place, smiling and nodding at the occupants of the table she was now vacating. She began to stride across the floor, trying not to follow the exact path Noel had carved through the crowd.

Just then, her instincts told her she was being watched. She whipped her gaze over her shoulder.

Through the shining jewellery and flowing dresses and starched suits, Hope was staring right at her. And he was grinning. There was never really any doubt in his mind, was there?

So she did the only thing she knew to do. She stuck her tongue out at him, then hurried up to the man waiting for her.


	9. The Secrets They Keep

_**Title: **The Secrets They Keep_  
><em><strong>Prompt: <strong>support (from venomshock)_  
><em><strong>Rating: <strong>K_  
><em><strong>Words: <strong>323_  
><em><strong>Commentary:<strong> When I first saw this prompt, I thought to write a gag fic about "support" in the form of a brassiere, but I figured this would be crude and my sense of humour would not be appreciated. So here we go! I hope you enjoy. (Also, was the last one too steamy for you guys?)  
><em>

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><p>Noel cracks an eye open. He's usually the type to wake up all at once, so being stealthy this early feels a little funny. He's gotten somewhat used to it after so many times, though.<p>

After checking that Mog is asleep and that Serah's breathing is regular, he stands, moving across the dead campfire toward her. He looks critically at the ankle she injured today. He knew she was lying about it being fine, like all those other times. In her sleep it has swollen to the size of a grapefruit. He calls forth healing magic, dousing her ankle in a soft green glow. He knows he can't heal it fully all in one go, but he does what he can. It'll need a few more healing sessions. When he pulls away, her ankle is smaller, the end of her tights stretched out in a testimony to its former condition.

He stokes the fire again to keep them warm, then lies back down for another few hours of sleep.

* * *

><p>Serah ducks her head out of the tent, thinking she heard the paces of her travelling companion. But there's nothing there, so she ducks quickly back in, attributing it all to paranoia.<p>

In her hands are Noel's clothes. She doesn't have much time before he'll finish his shower and go looking for his shirt and pants, only to find that they've been stolen. She puts more stitches into the fabric, neater and faster than she would have given herself credit for. Practise makes perfect, she supposes, since she's been doing this on the sly nearly since the start of their journey. The sleeve of his shirt is once more in good condition, so she checks up on his pants. They're fine, so she spirits the bundle of cloth back to the log on which they had been balanced.

When he returns fully dressed but hair still dripping, she innocently offers him freshly brewed tea.


	10. Odds Are

_**Title: **Odds Are..._  
><em><strong>Prompt: <strong>Hope Estheim; the matchmaker (from ghostdriving)_  
><em><strong>Rating: <strong>T, for alcohol (there's virtually none though)_  
><em><strong>Words: <strong>4308_  
><strong><em>Commentary: <em>**_This one was not supposed to turn out this long, but I just couldn't see Hope as a willing matchmaker without some external pressure, and then the whole Academy muscled their way in on the matchmaking, and... this is the result! I sincerely hope you all enjoy! It was pretty entertaining to write.  
><em>

_(This has been posted in celebration of my tenth year on this site! Party time!)  
><em>

* * *

><p>After a few questions from employees, too many lunch hour discussions, and what turned out to be an unsurprisingly embarrassing and unwanted betting pool, Hope decided to pay a little more attention to the relationship between Serah and Noel. Eavesdropping revealed that the Academy was split into messy factions - some believed Serah liked Noel with Noel none the wiser, some thought Noel had it bad for Serah and Serah was clueless, some thought they were just very, inappropriately close friends, some thought they were full-out dating. The general consensus was that <em>something <em>was going on, they just had yet to put their finger on it. As for himself, Hope wondered if there was really so little else to do around here that his co-workers needed to resort to this kind of speculation.

From his station at the bridge, Hope gazed up at the hologram of Bhunivelze. His biggest worry was making his own deadline for this project. They had to start on it as soon as possible, despite the technology that was bound to improve over the years. They wouldn't get anywhere by just waiting.

The main doors whirred open then, trilling laughter echoing along the corridor. Serah's. The baritone of Noel's voice followed soon after, only to elicit more laughter. What an entrance.

A gust of wind blew by, and Hope looked over to the expanse in front of him. One of the male employees, Ven, had ridden a hover-terminal over and was waggling his eyebrows. "What do you think, Director? Odds are-"

Hope gave him a frowning smile. "Back to work, Ven," Hope told him, simultaneously dismissing a couple of other curious employees who were listening in. Sure, he'd pledged to pay more attention to whatever was going on between the time travellers, but he wasn't placing any bets. He turned in place to welcome them both back, "I see you've made it back safely."

Up they sauntered. "Hi, Hope!" Serah greeted perkily, smiling. Noel gave her a poke, which seemed to be very funny, since she let out a loud laugh and swatted at his hand. He chuckled in response, a sparkle in his eye.

Noel, apparently all business with Hope though, held out a hand. "Hey, Hope, got core alpha for you," he announced.

"Thanks, Noel, Serah," Hope said, nodding and taking the core in hand. He examined it critically, going so far as to take one of his gloves off.

Just as he ran his thumb over a groove in the core, Serah let out a yell.

Hope looked up fast, eyes flying open wide. "What's wrong?" he blurted.

And then he saw Serah and Noel in some weird kind of faceoff. There seemed to be an invisible barrier between them that they were currently circling. Noel was smiling and Serah was trying not to.

"Uh, guys?" Hope asked, worriedly running a finger back and forth against the core.

Noel lunged to his right, and Serah somewhat breathlessly reacted by running off to her own right. "What's wrong is that Noel is a bul-_ly!_" she squeaked, dodging Noel yet again.

Hope watched them. Were they really doing this in his control centre?

"We just found out that she's ticklish. _Really _ticklish, on the inside of her elbow," Noel said like it was most normal thing in the world.

Hope stared at them uncomprehendingly. Serah sprinted down the ramp and out of the room. Noel followed suit, calling to her.

"Okay, bye," Hope said to the closing doors, still holding the alpha core in his fingers.

He felt the whole room inhale. And then Ven's voice was booming through the sound system: "Everyone, care to adjust your bets?"

* * *

><p>"Could I tell you something?"<p>

Hope recognized this sentence as a coercion into secrecy. But Serah was Serah, and he couldn't tell her no. So instead he speared a stalk of asparagus and teased her, "Depends what it is."

She tried to pout at him and failed. It was cute, though, he gave her that. The sip of wine she took after was not cute. It was probably the wine that had her a tad looser than usual. She'd actually had the audacity to take food off of his plate earlier. She peered at him. "I'm telling you anyway," she announced.

He just popped his asparagus into his mouth and waved for her to go ahead. He arranged his potatoes into a heap.

He heard Serah's fork hit her plate. A deep breath in, and, "I'm _really _happy."

He looked up at her. She was looking at her hands, which were entwined together in her lap. There was something about the way she'd said it that had him wondering. "And is that a bad thing?"

She kept her focus on her fingers, dug each nail into the pads of her thumbs. "I just- it's just that- it's weird that I can be so happy... with Lightning and Snow missing."

Hope inhaled sharply, set his fork down, and twitched his napkin into place. He started, softly, cautiously, "Serah, you're allowed to enjoy yourself."

She went on fidgeting, picking dead skin from beneath her nails. She darted her gaze up to him for mere moments before returning her focus to her fingers. "Oh, I know. The times in New Bodhum when I was teaching were some of the nicest times I've had."

"I'm glad," he said. Then, just as gently, he asked her, "So, why do I get the feeling that you're hiding something from me?"

Her neck flushed pink. Her voicebox jumped beneath the skin of her throat. "I'm not. I'm getting to it," she said a little defiantly.

To encourage her to get on with it, he scooched his chair in a bit and picked up his utensils again. Nothing could get her going like her temper could. He played as if he were disinterested and began eating again.

Bingo. Her head whipped up and she gave him the stink eye. "It's Noel," she delivered, frowning.

He looked her dead in the eyes and forked more potatoes into his mouth.

"I'm- I'm happy with Noel around," she said, gaze falling once again to her lap. She found a lot of ways to link her fingers together. Her eyebrows came together. "I can't ever forget that they've left, but it's not so bad when I'm talking to Noel."

Hope stopped chewing his potatoes. This wasn't a side of Serah he'd seen often.

She looked up at him now, and the sight of her watery eyes made him swallow his mouthful of food.

She smiled a shaky smile, one that pulled her lips too flat against her teeth. "I don't think I was ever... really happy after Snow left. I just lived in this state of waiting. Waiting for someone to come back. Waiting for some news, waiting for _anything_... I was so scared, and no one would believe me about Lightning..." And before Hope could leave his seat, she was crying and shaking her head, batting at her eyes, maybe only halfway understanding her tears.

"Serah," he murmured, kneeling at her side, a glove-free hand resting on her upper arm.

She was pressing her napkin to her face. Her words were muffled intermittently by the cloth. "I just forgot what it was like to be happy. _Really, truly happy. _The only thing I could feel during that time was relief. I didn't realize how badly I needed it. To be happy again."

Hope stayed silently at her side as she soaked the napkin, then when it got too waterlogged, offered her his own. He replaced her wine with water. As he watched her slowly recover, sniffling, he replayed her words, her actions, in his mind. He guided her to the nearby couch and laid a blanket over her once she fell asleep. He took a seat across from her in the big armchair, and watching the rise and fall of her breathing, he came to his own conclusions.

* * *

><p>Hope turned Flame Fossil over and over in his hands. He took it by the hilt, flexing his wrist. He could probably design Odinblade with more durable material and, provided his team used the correct alloys, lighten the sword by up to a third. Since Noel's swords could combine into a spear, Hope wanted to keep this feature available for use. His team would have fun with this one.<p>

He looked up to see Noel unintentionally charming one of the Academy employees. She was practically melting on the spot, looking so doofy Hope could only feel second-hand embarassment for her. "Hey, Noel, got some news for you," Hope called across the lab.

Noel gave her a dorky wave, which Hope supposed balanced out the doofy grin on the female employee's face. "Hey, so what can your team do?" Noel asked upon his approach.

Hope handed Flame Fossil over to Noel. Noel sheathed the swords expertly.

"With the chaos crystal, I think we can do a lot. We can potentially design a sword that will let you attack faster due to its lighter weight, but deal just as much damage. If not, more damage," Hope said, smiling.

Noel gave a half-smile in return. "Really? You've got my Flame Fossil feeling a little inadequate," he joked, patting the sword on his back.

Hope smiled. It wasn't unheard of for a fighter to become so attached to their weapon. He certainly would never give up Nue. He piqued his eyebrows. "If you're not up for it, we could always redesign Serah's bowsword," he joked back. While it was true, Noel probably needed the upgrade more than Serah did. Their materials and gil had largely gone toward bettering her weaponry. Noel's Flame Fossil had taken quite a beating over their journey.

Noel didn't take it as a joke though. He smiled wide. "Really? That would be great. Think you could improve on Mog that much?" he laughed.

Hope tilted his head at the younger man. "You don't want Odinblade?"

"Is that what you've named it? Nice. What would Serah's be? Odin... bolt?"

Hope just stared at Noel.

Noel shifted his eyes. "What is it?"

Not enough yet. Not enough to draw any conclusions, and not enough to act. He'd need more data. But what Hope said outloud was, "Odinbolt. I like it. We'll upgrade Mog, then."

There wasn't an ounce of regret in Noel's expression. "Great! Little guy _needs _it, if you ask me," he joked again, crossing his arms over his torso. "Need me to go get Serah?"

Hope held out a hand in a signal for stop. "Not yet. I wanted to ask you something," he revealed.

"Yeah? Well, fire away," Noel said, bringing a hand up to the nape of his neck.

Hope tried not to look at the other man too intensely, but he felt as if something very, very important hinged upon the question he was about to ask. "Has the journey changed you, Noel?"

Noel blinked. He took a moment to think. "Yeah. It's given me faith that a better future exists out there."

Hope let silence fall between them, hoping that Noel would choose fill it. He kept his gaze steady though, and attentive.

Noel seemed to sense that Hope wanted more. He swallowed roughly, alleviating the dryness of his throat. "It's been nice to be around people again, too, you know?" - a half-hearted laugh - "I was getting pretty lonely. Now I've got Serah and Mog to think about. It's... great, actually," he admitted softly. Then he flicked his gaze up to Hope and there was a slight upturn of his lips. "When she smiles, it feels like a job well done."

Hope gave Noel the chance to say more, but nothing else came. He stepped forward and put a palm to Noel's shoulder. "Thanks," he said. Noel nodded.

The last dot connected.

* * *

><p>Another day spent pounding out the details on Bhunivelze. It was strange - things like roadways, dwellings and facilities felt small in the grander plan of this planet, but when it would come to actually living there, these seemingly small details would make all the difference. Jumping from something as important as the composition of the atmosphere to something so miniscule as the height of a door was almost overwhelming. Everything needed to be planned to perfection. Thank goodness for his Bhunivelze team.<p>

"Hey, boss," Ven approached him, blueprints flapping in his hands, "I've got something you need to approve." Ven spread the thin paper out over the table in front of Hope.

At first glance, they looked to be designs for a mansion. There were even outlines of a garage and a... pond of some kind. Then he looked to the title of the document. He cast a glare up at his co-worker. "Ven."

Ven shrugged, smiling in his rakishly charming way. "What? The girls and I thought it would be a great idea."

Hoep ignored some of the positive exclaimations that erupted from the remainder of the group. "_Serah and Noel's Mansion?_" Hope intoned, annoyed. "Are you guys playing dollhouse? Not funny."

Ven shrugged again. "They're gonna get together, right? We're just planning ahead for them. It's really considerate of us, if you think about it. Speaking of, Director, would you finally like to get in on the betting? Odds are-"

Hope let out a long-suffering sigh. With all of Ven's blathering and all the reinvigorated chatter, he broke.

"Yes."

The room literally fell silent. Ven spoke, "Come again?"

"You all heard me," Hope said, standing from his chair. He leant over and laid his hands out flat on the table in front of him, cutting a menacing figure. "I'm in."

Ven's jaw worked silently for some time before he spat out, "Serah likes, Noel likes, they aren't, or they are?"

Hope let himself smirk. "They are."

* * *

><p>The problem with Hope's bet was that he didn't actually think Serah and Noel were doing anything beyond innocent. He just knew that there was definitely something tangible there, and that it was present on both sides. He also knew that they deserved each other. Serah's happiness and Noel's smile were evidence enough. It was simple, in the end.<p>

And if he happened to make a buck off of his patience-testing employees, who would it hurt?

He cracked a couple of knuckles, sat himself down and started to plan.

... An hour later, Hope had a stiff back, a bunch of illegible doodles and a whole lot of nothing. Judging from his notes, at some point, he'd done some math and determined that there was a 68% chance that Serah liked Noel, a 61% chance that Noel liked Serah (- he was a tad thick-headed when it came to females. The doofy female employee had proved that -) a 99% chance that they would reciprocate each other's feelings, romantic or not, and a 35% chance that they would express such feelings in public. How did he even crunch these numbers...?

He jiggled his knee. Okay, this was all useless. What was his angle? Should he be present to guide them toward each other? Oh- maybe he could invent some kind of truth serum!

Hope let his head fall into his hands. He wasn't cut out for this. He wasn't meddling enough.

* * *

><p>"Hey, guys, come over for a second, would you?"<p>

Hope narrowed his eyes at Ven and the rest of his contingent. Hope might not be meddling enough, but Ven sure was. Hope took a sip of his tea to curb his urge to run over.

"Sure," Noel said. The time-travelling duo had just delivered graviton core gamma and were about to leave again when some employees extended an invitation for a tour of the facility.

Noel looked to Serah and did a little jerk of his head over toward the blueprints Ven had laid out. They walked up to the table, where a female employee named Colette promptly began stabbing different parts of the diagrams with her finger. Noel and Serah barely seemed to follow, even tossing each other questioning looks. The looks grew increasingly amused over time.

Hope wondered just what Ven was up to. Did he plan to have them bond over how weird everyone else was?

Just then, Hope caught sight of Ven positioned at the end of a rug, bending at the knees. The rug that Noel and Serah were currently standing on.

Of course Ven's plans couldn't be that subtle. The Academy employees were about as subtle as brick walls. Hope tried not to sigh at how transparent the plan was. They didn't even have rugs around the headquarters - they all must have chipped in and bought one. The dear gods. Ven was positioned at the end of the rug closest to Serah. According to the laws of physics, when Ven pulled that rug from beneath their feet, momentum would cause Serah to fall right into Noel.

Ven's forearms tensed. And- _there it was_.

Everyone seemed to scream right at the same time, except for Hope himself. He held his mug up to his mouth so as to not betray the slightest hint of emotion. He watched as Noel tumbled to the ground, landing hard on his side, and Serah followed...

Landing face-first into Noel's elbow.

Hope was standing in an instant. If she was hurt, he was firing Ven. "Serah!"

Ven was making signals with every part of his body to leave them alone, but Hope brushed them all off. "Serah, are you alright?" He walked over quickly, kneeling before their aching bodies.

Serah's eyes were watering as she sat up, tenderly holding her nose. She seemed to have trouble speaking, and he immediately glared a thousand daggers at Ven. "I think I need a doctor," she said.

"We'll call the hospital," Hope said, immediately reaching into his pocket for his phone.

"I'll take her," Noel said firmly. "Can you stand?" he asked her. The way he asked her this question, as simple as it was, sounded so tender and private to Hope's ears that it was almost uncomfortable to hear.

Serah nodded and stood. Her eyes couldn't seem to stop watering. Though the tears weren't borne from sadness, Noel couldn't seem to stand it. He crouched before her. She seemed to know what to do, and looped her arms around his neck. He matched the crooks of his elbows to the backs of her knees. Had they done this before?

"See you later," Noel said quickly, then began to half-walk, half-run out of the building.

Once they had left and Hope had finished dialling ahead to the hospital, he turned on Ven.

"What? They're together, aren't they?" Ven asked, daring to smile.

Hope's glare only intensified. "Oh, yeah, a piggyback to the hospital bodes well for their relationship," he said flatly. "How do you feel about unemployment?"

* * *

><p>She looked awful.<p>

"You look awful," he told her.

She reached across the space between them and punched him in the arm, then quickly put her fingers to her nose. Aside from the broken nose (which the doctors had reset wonderfully, they assured him), she had two black eyes that were healing slowly, edging more on browny-reddish eyes.

"You shouldn't touch it," Noel told her.

She made a face at him, but took her fingers from her nose.

"I don't think she looks awful," Ven piped up from his station. "What do you think, Noel?"

Hope's gaze hardened. _Haven't you done enough, you nuisance? _he communicated silently. "You're just saying that because it was your rug," he shot back.

"I'm not! But _what do you think, Noel?_" the ingrate asked with the subtlety of a bullet train.

Hope could practically feel the anticipation in the room. Here was the part where Noel said Serah looked beautiful all the time, and Serah melted into his arms and they rode off into the sunset on a impeccably manicured chocobo.

Noel frowned and addressed Ven, "It was _your _rug?"

Hope coughed, then cleared his throat and spoke up, annoyance abundant in his tone, "Yes, it was. I'm thinking of burning the rug. And firing Ven. Opinions, everyone?"

Most of the employees, familiar with Hope's brand of humour, began to laugh. But there were two standouts...

"No!" Serah exclaimed, eyes flying wide open.

"Sure," Noel said at the exact same time, crossing his arms.

Hope immediately wore a frowning smile. Jackpot.

"Wait, what?" Serah turned to Noel, tweaking at her nose again. Noel's hand rose to take her fingers away, but she seemed not to notice. "You're joking."

Noel gave a single shake of his head. "Nope."

Serah's eyes lit up with mild disbelief and anger, but were tempered by her more rational side. She took Noel by the bicep and led him down the corridor. Fortunately for the entirety of the room, this did nothing to diminish the volume of their voices. Hope almost, almost got up to tell her, but he had a feeling about this. They listened in silence, rapt.

"Noel," she began sternly, "I'm pretty sure Hope was just kidding, but are you serious? You'd have that man fired for an accident?"

Noel's reply was coolheaded in contrast to Serah's dialogue. "That was no accident. Rugs don't just slip and knock over two people."

Hope shot a smug look Ven's way. Busted. You don't get something that simple past a hunter.

"Regardless, this is his _job _we're talking about," Serah insisted. "He needs this job to put food on the table. My nose will heal."

"It's not about your nose," he replied quietly, then quickly recovered with, "You're right, though. It's not enough to justify him losing his job."

A tense silence. Then, "Good."

They waited for more. For something, maybe for them to walk back into the room, for more talking, for the swipe of closing doors. But then, Hope decided he'd had enough of guesswork and probabilities and odds for or against.

"Tell her it's because you hate seeing her cry," Hope called loudly, loud enough, he was certain, to reach into the hallway.

Silence.

"And tell _him _that you were miserable before, and that you're happy now, and even though you're angry right now, it's still better than any other time in your life," he added.

Silence.

The whole of the Academy was split between staring at him and at the entrance to the corridor.

But there was nothing. It would be a war of attrition, then. He was certain that it wouldn't be him to crack first.

And it wasn't. But when they finally did something, what they did was leave.

* * *

><p>They stayed away for a full three weeks. He wasn't sure if it was that long for them, too - time travel worked in strange ways. The betting pool was markedly less enthusiastic and jokey, and Hope honestly didn't mind. They got a lot more done that way. They did pin the blueprints for "Noel and Serah's dream house" to the bulletin board in the kitchen though. People slowly added to it, drawing in chocobo pens and bathtubs with jets.<p>

That wasn't to say he didn't wonder about Serah and Noel though. He usually just concluded that they could handle themselves and went back to working on whatever was in front of him. He didn't regret what he'd said to them both.

When they did return, the skin around Serah's eyes was fading to a greenish-yellow, and her nose had a new support constructed around it. So they had been back.

"Serah, Noel," Hope greeted, standing from his place at the head of the conference table. Other conversation in the room was gradually dying down at the new arrivals.

"Hope," Noel saluted.

Serah did not say anything, just sort of ducked behind the cover of Noel's arm. Noel darted a look around the room, perhaps a bit put-off by the number of eyes focused on him.

"How are you?" Hope asked finally, capping a pen.

"I'm good," Noel answered. There was a pause. Then he smiled. "_We're _good."

Hope's lips slowly curved upward. His eyebrows rose. "You're both good?"

Serah cleared her throat and piped up, avoiding Hope's gaze, "Yes." She was blushing madly.

Some time passed. The news and all its implications sunk in.

Hope decided to put them all out of their misery. "So, you're...?"

Noel looked at Serah. She hesitantly looked back at him, then nodded. She took his hand in hers. He leant down to kiss her.

The room burst into a cacophony of noise. It startled them both, and they jumped, bonking noses. Serah let out a yelp, eyelids fluttering and hands flying to her face. Noel just smiled, steadied her, ran a thumb over her cheek. Then he took her chin between his fingers and kissed her full on the lips, to even more noise. Someone even ripped up (what Hope believed) was unneeded paper, and threw it into the air, makeshift confetti.

When they parted, there were stars in both sets of eyes. Hope smiled a full-blown smile. Colette ran in with the extended dream house blueprints and wrapped the papers around them both.

"You guys are crazy," Noel said, trying to scowl.

"You're welcome!" Ven called back, vindicated.

Hope turned and hollered over his shoulder, "Get out of here! Take vacation, I don't care, Ven. Just leave!" Someone, somewhere was still ripping up confetti, and a healthy chunk of it landed in Hope's hair.

Ven duly ignored Hope. "Naysayers, pay up, and direct your bets toward the Director!" he hollered cheerily.

Uh oh. He felt the heat of Serah's glare before he saw it. When he turned to her, she was glowering at him, tucked against Noel's side and looking misleadingly delicate, and her still-healing eyes made it all the more menacing. "What _bets_?" she asked.

He really, really should've fired Ven.


	11. Love Enduring

_**Title: **Love Enduring_  
><em><strong>Prompt: <strong>baby!Noel (from vampireknightcrazziii)_  
><em><strong>Rating: <strong>K+_  
><em><strong>Words: <strong>1727_  
><em><strong>Commentary:<strong> This one had me figuratively scratching my head for awhile, then I got the idea to write about the women in his life, and it snowballed from there! There is some very mild one-sided Noel/Yeul in this, just as a warning. It's nothing you can't handle though, I'm sure, readers! _As you all know by now, I've got some serious love for Noel_, so this one was a little sad to write - each of these women (physically) leave him, after all. But as always, please enjoy and leave your feedback!_

* * *

><p>Noel was two, tireless and deeply curious.<p>

In the middle of running back and forth across his living room, Noel paused and stared up at his mother, who was sitting at the kitchen table. The glint of something metallic caught his eye, and he walked over to her, already on his tip-toes.

Ever-conscious of her son, she asked him, "Curious?" The word was already in his vocabulary from all the times he'd heard her say it.

He nodded, continuing to stare at her with his father's eyes.

She paused in her work to set gentle eyes on him. He was growing like a weed. She still remembered cradling him in her arms like it was yesterday. She remembered griping about back pains and worrying about what to eat. Now that he was his own person she worried double, thinking of bruises and infections and bad words. She fast-forwarded next, and thought that maybe one day, his fingers would sport a collection of blisters (hot water), bruises (slamming door), scrapes (breaking a fall) and broken nails (monster encounter).

For now, she pulled her son forward by his unmarked hands and lifted him onto her lap. She wrapped her arms tight around him, pinning his arms to his sides so he couldn't reach up and tamper with what she had been doing.

His eyes grew huge and his mouth fell open in awe, showing off pearly baby teeth.

"It's your father's sword," she told him, pressing her cheek into his hair. She had woven the sword a new grip for its hilt, the old grip worn down and useless, so slick was it with rainwater, sweat and dirt.

Noel's eyes stayed wide open, taking in the sheen of the sword and the bright, colourful hilt. His eyes swept back and forth, his gaze direct and purposeful for a two year-old.

She marvelled at her own son, at his ability to help her see things through fresh eyes. It did look pretty impressive, didn't it? "One day, daddy will teach you, Noel," she promised him, kissing his cheek. Then she turned, slid him from her lap, and off he rocketed, cheering.

* * *

><p>Noel was eight, clever and unrelenting.<p>

"Grandmother, tell us a story?"

She looked up from where she was tending to her chocobo, her companion since girlhood, and gave Noel a frowning smile. "Why should I, when you've memorized them all?" she asked him. The kids behind him tugged at each other, tried to whisper things into Noel's ears.

"Tell us a new one," he shot back, lightning fast, blue eyes crackling with excitement. No coddling for this grandmother, oh no. Her Noel treated her not at all like the old woman many saw her as, and she appreciated it deeply. Her frowning smile softened, then, and he knew he'd won.

He wore a half-grin on his face, cheek dimpling. She knew that even at such a young age, her grandson would grow up handsome. Not that there would be anyone to impress, now. The population of their village had steadily grown smaller over the years, healthy young adults taken out by suddenly very strong monsters or stricken with illness. Much of their population were old folk or children, who stayed in the village, protected. Her own son, Noel's father, died not long ago, and his wife followed soon after, dying of heartbreak.

She cleared her throat, then waved a hand toward the house. "Go on, go on," she told the assembled children. They shucked their shoes, following Noel's example, then ran inside, gathering on the carpet in front of her spot on the couch.

She finished with grooming her chocobo, double-checked her water, then gave her a pat on the beak. She knew Noel kept the water topped up at all times, though he denied it to her just as frequently. She followed the children inside. Which story would it be today?

* * *

><p>Noel was sixteen, studious and genial.<p>

Caius was grooming a replacement Guardian, and decided that Noel was the perfect candidate. She'd only nodded, seeing the same qualities in him that made Caius select him. Noel was a top-tier hunter, obviously proficient in the use of a variety of weaponry. He was dedicated to their village and a staunch believer in equality, always making sure to divvy up food appropriately and helping to carry back a carcass with the others even if he'd taken it down himself. He stayed humble, practising often in the field despite his skill. Caius regarded the boy with approval, his serious gaze following Noel's movements.

The longer she watched, the more she noticed about him. Even though he was the youngest, he was never treated as such. Even though he had the charisma to lord over everyone, he didn't. As he passed her in the village he always smiled, perfectly amiable. As he returned with food he always called out to others, insisting everyone get together for dinner.

When Caius told Noel about the apprenticeship, he smiled brilliantly, and he directed that smile at her. She felt her heart jump. "Hey, that's great! I'll do my best, Yeul," he said sincerely.

She told him thank you and continued to observe, mindful of her heart. She hadn't forseen her passing for a few years yet, but the palpitations were worrisome.

* * *

><p>Noel was eighteen, balanced and fiercely protective.<p>

He materialized from the gate first, climbed up a ledge, and turned back to her, holding out an open palm. She didn't hesitate to place her hand in his. She made it up with ease, half her weight in his hands. He took his hand from beneath hers once she was on solid ground.

She looked around. It was strange here. There were no signs of life, yet it was obviously manmade, with flat floors and soaring concrete columns - though she had to admit that some were broken, and they were too thick to have been chopped in half by the mere passage of time. A battle? "Is this place what I think it is?" she asked him. Could it be? That her sister was just beyond the ridge?

He shook his head. This place was similar, but not the same.

Disappointment hit her harder than it ever had before. So... it wasn't Valhalla. So many gates, so many anomalies, so many lives... and where was Lightning in this all? Was it even possible to find Valhalla, and with it, one of the most important people in her life? No, of course it was possible. Noel had come from there, hadn't he? Still, it was getting tough, and Mog saying they were lost in a rift between gates didn't help, either.

She struggled not to fidget. "I need a break," she said quietly.

He watched the light drain out of her eyes, then took a deep breath as she sat down on a fallen column.

"Finding my sister isn't gonna be easy," she said absently, looking off into the distance, gazing at something that couldn't be seen. The beat of silence between them was a smidgen too long. If she had looked up, she would have seen him flicker between disappointment and resolve.

"We had a legend back home, about a goddess," he spoke.

She looked up at him. He was turning to her. "Huh?"

He walked over to her, and as he came closer, she could see the stitch of his brow, which told her he was concerned, and the slight lift of his lips, which told her he was being positive. His walk was solid and his gestures were exact - when he did something, it stayed done. She latched onto these things. They were a comfort.

He said, his voice echoing slightly in the void, "We hunters passed the story down, from father to son. It gave us strength when times were tough."

She looked up at him, so close. She knew he was trying to pick her mood up. As dismal as she felt... she wanted to let him. "What was it?"

He looked straight at her. "Never give up, for the goddess Etro watches always, and helps those who help themselves."

For that moment, his eyes held hers. His gaze was absolutely penetrating, whether he intended it or not.

Then she bowed her head and let out a small chuckle. "It's not much of a legend is it? It sounds more like common sense to me." She fixed him with the look she gave her students when they told her a sahagin ate their homework.

He smiled brilliantly at her, then put a hand to the nape of his neck. "Yeah. But when the going gets rough, you don't need anything complicated, just a reminder to stick things out." He sprinted forward a few steps, away from her, and she felt the sudden and stronge urge to spring up and follow.

He looked back at her over his shoulder, then turned to face her fully. In that brief moment, she thought him lonely, despite having her and Mog as traveling companions. She knew he was constantly concerned for her safety, but this was a whole new level of caring. She clutched at her arms and blinked away a mysterious moistening of her eyes. She... had to stick this out. She had to be a better partner to him. That was right- what _about _Noel? He understood her so, so well when given so little in words. He studied her, how her mouth downturned when Lightning was mentioned, how she tried to hide that she was afraid of the dark, how she ate flan fast because she liked it best. He always quickened his steps to the nearest gate, struck up a small fire, brought back extra flan, all for her. They were little things, and they were perfect. He may not need it, but he deserved the same from her. He deserved dorky attempts to make him smile. He deserved a hand to help him up. He did, he really did.

His voice became soft. "Let's just keep telling ourselves that every time we go through a gate, we're getting closer to Lightning." He leveled a look at her. "Sound good?"

She stood, dusted herself off, and started toward him. When she got close enough to see a deeper blue in his eyes, she wrapped her arms around him. "Sounds good."


	12. Twelve Hours

_**Title: **Twelve Hours_  
><em><strong>Prompt: <strong>Post-sex cuddles; the morning after (from ironchord)_  
><em><strong>Rating: <strong>M_  
><em><strong>Words: <strong>873_  
><em><strong>Commentary:<strong> As the prompt and rating have let you know, this one is some hybrid of sexy and cuddly. On a collection-wide note, I'd like to take a moment to thank everyone who keeps up with this and encourage you to leave me feedback! I'm nice, really. Haha. Well, I do hope you enjoy this one. Some of you probably thought that it was about time I wrote something steamy for our beloved couple.  
><em>

* * *

><p>Her name tumbled from his lips barely intelligible, but she was sure she did no better with his as she came, hard, digging her nails deep into his back. This time he'd had her practically sobbing her agreement as he thrust into her. The skin she broke at his back was her own way of exacting revenge, deserved or not.<p>

She collapsed bonelessly back onto her bed, closing her eyes. He fell to her side, but still managed to kiss her deeply. Her hand came to the side of his face as she kissed him with equal fervor. He pulled back then, and she opened her eyes to see him in the dark.

He was so close, and he was looking at her with gentle eyes. He draped his arm over her ribcage, a heavy weight against her still hammering heart. He buried his face into her sweaty neck; one closed eye, the side of his nose and his mouth pressed against her throat. "Mm," he hummed, sounding satisfied.

She laughed, her pulse jumping beneath his lips. She turned her head slightly to kiss his scalp through his hair. "Right back at you," she told him, and then it was his turn to laugh. He propped himself up on an elbow, brought his other arm around and pulled her to him, kissing select spots - her earlobe, her shoulder, the inside of her elbow, and then each of her fingers - as her back aligned with his front. She loved that he did these things every time, a perfect _after_.

He pulled the sheets around them both. Their heads upon the same pillow, his breath flowered over her shoulderblades. She turned, quick kissed him goodnight, and whirled back around before he could do a thing. As she fell asleep though, she could feel his smile against her spine.

* * *

><p>She cracked an eye open in the morning light, streaming in through her slightly opened blinds. Mornings were always sticky, warm and slightly sore. This one was no exception. But it was different in that she had woken before he had. She yawned, then turned in his arms.<p>

Even though she looked at him plenty, she felt an extra kick in her bloodstream at the sight of him. His hair was wild, which she found oddly adorable, especially when paired with his sleeping face. He looked to be completely at peace, breathing in slowly from his very straight nose. One of his tan, muscular arms pinned the sheets to his side, and his shoulder was a gathering of muscle, too, a very nicely-shaped junction between his neck and arm. She imagined his body beneath the blanket, his rippled torso and tight ass, and found herself accidentally holding her breath, and let it out in a rush. She locked her ankles around his, wanting to touch him in any way.

And then she remembered something. She sat up a bit and bent over his sleeping body. Sure enough, there were four small punctures in his skin. She gave a small smile.

"Well, that's a nice way to wake up," his voice came.

She looked down at him. Her chest was right in front of his perfect nose. She shoved herself into his face just for that comment, and he let out a strangled sound, but she doubted he'd complain.

He did much better. His mouth closed around one of her nipples. She should've expected as much, but she let out a surprised gasp and fell against him. He was only too happy to bring his arms up to brace against her and continue to torture her with his tongue.

"Noel," she said, attempting to sound reprimanding, but failing horribly. If anything she sounded like she was begging him for more. Her palms found the mattress on either side of his head.

Freed from holding her up, he took a chance and had his hands drift to between her legs. She was gratifyingly wet. "Yes?" his voice rumbled against her chest.

She bucked against his touch, letting out something between a whine and a groan. "R-really? After last night?" Her eyebrows were coming together in a way that had him thinking she wasn't as opposed as she was saying.

The chuckle he let out vibrated against her ribs. "If I remember right, _you _initiated the second time," he said. "No complaints from me, though."

She was past arguing, grinding herself against him. He continued to kiss her, lavishing the skin she never showed anyone else with grazes of his teeth and licks of his tongue. "Won't you let me pay you back for those scratches?" he asked her, sounding impossibly sultry while also telling her in the most annoying way that he had known exactly what she'd done to him.

She pressed herself against him, silently asking for more. "Ugh, _yes_, you horrible, horrible tease," she moaned into his ear.

At her agreement, he flipped them both. "Good," he said from above her, locking lustful gazes.

She rolled her eyes. "Just kiss me already," she demanded. Then she grabbed him by the neck and crushed her mouth to his, eager for more of him, and more of the smattering of kisses against her spine after it all.


	13. In a Spark I See a Star

_**Title: **__In a Spark I See a Star_  
><em><strong>Prompt: <strong>Noel introspection when they were running around in New Bodhum looking for fragments and getting to know Serah. (from mister-lion)_  
><em><strong>Rating: <strong>K_  
><em><strong>Words: <strong>3656_  
><em><strong>Commentary: <strong>Writing this one was like pulling teeth, and I held it back for a long time for editing, which explains the small delay. As avid lovers of the game will know, some dialogue is taken straight out of the game, but the majority is definitely my own imagining. Again, this wasn't supposed to turn out so long, but I felt that there wasn't enough Noel introspection and so I just kept going and going... The Noel I write speaks more through his actions than anything, so this one was quite the challenge. I hope you enjoy reading this prompt, and feedback would be very appreciated (for reasons mentioned above, ha).  
><em>

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><p>It couldn't be possible, what she said to him. He could change the future?<p>

Could he really? He wanted to - there was no questioning that - but was it even possible? Was it possible that his barren homeland could become something else? Something... alive?

Possibilities buzzing around his brain, Noel swallowed nothing, taking in his surroundings: gravity-less space, a sunset sort of yellow, and coil upon coil of turning metal. The air here had no smell, no taste. It was strangely the same temperature as his own skin. He called experimentally into the void and his voice bounced back at him almost instantly. He was very alone. He didn't know how long this would last, his being alone, and who it would be to break it. All he had was a name: Serah.

The way Lightning had said her sister's name was rife with implication. His working assumption was that Serah was a younger sister. Much younger, from the way the word "sister" fell from Lightning's lips - dear, protected, close to her heart. And there was the way Lightning was: guarded, serious, so obviously a fighter. Actually, her manner reminded him of a hunter he'd known, Raoul— or was it Ralph? Reno?

He struggled with the name of the hunter he thought he had known for 10 years— 5 years? His memory was strangely... hazy. He cast about for something else: the face of his grandmother, the monsters he'd encountered back home. Everything seemed to blink in and away. He thought there was something else important, something he was just on the edge of remembering - and then it ghosted over his tongue and it tasted like despair and he backed away - but the memory was fuzzy. At least he knew the flavour of it. He blinked up at the giant, spinning iron rings. Everything was so... alien...

Up ahead there was a molten pool of gold, translucent and shining like the surface of a lake. Instinct took over right then and told him this was where he needed to go. As he began to move through, he held his breath, just in case.

The metal tunnels spit him out and he landed atop a hunk of rock. The rock wasn't connected to much of anything though, and although he was standing solid, his equilibrium felt off. His eyes blinked twice, thrice, four times. The buttery yellow of the passageway lingered on his clothes, and had given way to a dark, starry night. It had been a long time since he'd seen the stars - they were covered constantly by clouds back home. The tang of saltwater hit his nose and the sounds of scuffling hit his ears. Sounds he hadn't heard in too long. They sounded too loud. He cast his gaze to down below.

Was that her?

* * *

><p>Landing in this new time and place, he hadn't expected to have to fight so soon. It was probably better that way - fighting was something familiar. The gogmagog didn't go down easy, but it didn't go down hard, either. It yielded a fragment of some kind as it fell. He flipped his sword over his shoulder neatly, but with a flourish that spoke of practise. His muscle memory was fully functioning, at least. It was strange that his memories were so jumbled. If he were honest with himself, that only made his current quest more appealing - at least he knew what was supposed to happen, there. He had to take Serah back to Lightning and change the future. Maybe the future he— they could form would look more like this. There could be oceans, gritty sand, greenery and happy, strong groups of friends and families.<p>

He looked over his shoulder at Serah, bathed in the strange, cosmic light emitted from the meteorite. She _was _younger than Lightning, but she wasn't as young as he'd been betting. She wasn't bad with her bowsword either, definitely shortening the time he would've spent in battle with all the monsters crawling around. No coddling for this girl- strike that, woman. This quest was looking up. Of course, there were still a few tests they had to pass aside from battlefield compatibility. They had to make sure that they were, in fact, right for this adventure.

Her eyes widened suddenly, focused on the sky behind him. "Noel, what is that place? Do you know?"

He turned, wondering what she could be talking about. And then he saw gray crystal sand and endless plains and rolling clouds. "Yeah," he answered, surprised but also saddened. How could this image of his world be projected in the sky, and how could they both see it?

She seemed to have a hint of where it was though, because she said, "Wait, what happened to Cocoon? It's not there."

"Well... you're looking at a different time. That's the world I come from." As he explained, her eyes widened more and more. "I'm the last of humanity," he said, thinking of how empty it had been, remembering the feeling of absolute, crushing loneliness...

A question was sitting on the tip of her tongue, and he turned to her. But then a shout came from across the expanse of the meteorite crash site. "Hey!"

He ignored it. This was more important. He felt fire light in his veins. He was here now, and he could actually do something to change the future. This future reflected in the sky was the right nudge he needed. This was exactly what they had to stop. It was almost certain that the paths to their goals were one and the same. All he needed was a sign, and he knew exactly where to find it. "Serah, I can take you there. We can find Lightning together. I know she wants to see you."

"You're full of it!" hollered Gadot, pushing his way in front of Noel, blocking his view of Serah. Noel didn't give him anything, not a reaction, not a word. This was about something bigger than the other man could understand.

"Gadot," Serah said, coming forward to grip his forearm.

Serah and Gadot exchanged looks. Finally, Gadot backed away.

She was dogged. "Noel, do you know where my sister is?"

This was it. Time for their sign, their test. This was all that stood between them and Lightning and a better tomorrow. He took her by the wrist. "Come with me."

She followed him to the meteorite. He laid their joined hands against its glowing shell. Warmth began to grow from beneath their palms, light shining brightly from the spot they had contacted. The heat became uncomfortably hot as magic swirled around them, _from _them, and ate up the rock, shards of rainbow crystal evaporating into the sky. Her fingers twitched against his, but she didn't jerk away. "What's happening?" she asked him.

When the wind settled, she had her answer, and so did he. This was a time gate, and it was definitely meant for the two of them.

* * *

><p>"Noel?"<p>

He sat up fast, ripped from a mysterious half-dream. Images of a young blonde girl, a smiling brunet, a laughing middle-aged man faded as he opened his eyes. They were all strangers to him... but then, maybe his subconscious knew more than he did at the moment. He shook his head, putting them from his mind, and looked over to the source of the voice.

Serah was standing a few feet away from him, fidgeting with the hem of a sky-blue nightgown. She stared at a spot on the floor near his makeshift bed in the common room of NORA house.

"What's up, Serah?" he asked her. Sleep clogged his throat, and he cleared it a bit.

She bit her lip. Then she looked right into his eyes. Her gaze woke him up fully - had anyone looked so directly at him before? Her mouth worked in silence, strangled syllables dying in her throat.

He softened his gaze and swung his legs over the side of the bench. He gestured at a nearby stool. "Why don't you sit?" he suggested.

She kept her gaze on him as she sat, drawing courage to speak. She gulped.

He waited for her to begin. He leant forward, elbows on his knees, and looked up at her occasionally. When they caught each other's stares, he offered her a small smile.

Finally, she shook her head, seeming bewildered with herself. "I'm sorry," she apologized.

"Don't be," he said.

At that, she let out a sigh and looked again into his eyes. "I couldn't sleep. I just felt like I had to talk to you," she told him.

He felt the heat of embarrassment behind her statement and did his best to ease it away. He responded softly, "What about?"

Again, she had a hard time speaking. She looked at his bare feet, then back to his face. "I'll... sound so crazy if I tell you this. But you're the only one who might understand."

He nodded his go-ahead.

By the mere act of continuing to look at him, he knew her curiosity and desire to speak had outweighed her embarrassment. Her face lit up a bit just as her lips began to move. "Before the meteor crashed, I was dreaming. My dream was about Lightning... and you," she paused, assessing his reaction.

He only nodded. She had mentioned that within the first few moments of meeting.

She swallowed nothing again and continued. "I saw you in Valhalla. And then when I woke up, the meteor crashed and I got those new clothes and... and..." she exhaled heavily, hands going to the edge of her pretty nightgown.

"And...?" he prompted, surprised at his own curiosity.

She looked up again. Her stare lanced him straight through. "And I felt you," she said quietly, almost reverently. "I knew... someone had come with the meteorite. And that it could only be you."

His hand went to the nape of his neck almost immediately. His mouth had gone dry. What did you tell a woman who just confessed something this... intimate to you, _about you_? If he were callous he could brush her off and grin, murmuring, _really now? _If he were tired he could simply nod and say nothing, wait for her to remove herself from what would fast become an awkward situation. But he couldn't do those things, not with her looking at him like that. It was his turn to gulp. The time to respond was slipping away. "You... were right, then," he said, looking back at her from beneath his bangs. His hand fell from his neck. It was an awful reply, and they both seemed to know it.

She looked off to the side, smile growing on her face. "I was, wasn't I," she said quietly.

He tried to think of something else to say to make up for his miserable failure of a response.

But it was Serah who spoke next. She laughed humourlessly. "You don't think I'm crazy, do you?"

He shook his head once. "Not even a little bit."

Another silence fell between them.

She began to stand. He saw the goodbye perched on her lips from where he sat, and strangely he didn't want her to go, not yet. "Serah," he said.

"Yes?"

Words were suddenly filling his mouth, and he hadn't even thought them until they were flying out from between his teeth, through the dark, to her ears. "You were right - I came for you. And I'll stay with you, if you believe in the journey."

Her inhale was loud in the following quiet.

He kept his gaze on her.

"Thank you, Noel," she said then, smiling a real smile. He didn't know what exactly she was thanking him for. This conversation was so quiet and close and real that maybe the words themselves didn't matter so much as the emotion behind them did.

He smiled back.

"Goodnight, Noel," she told him.

"Goodnight, Serah," he said.

* * *

><p>He startled awake to the sound of crunching. It sounded like a behemoth grinding its teeth on the bones of another creature, and his hands went straight to his swords on instinct.<p>

"Whoa, there, future boy."

And then he blinked, and at the tip of his sword was the woman who had fainted from the previous night. "I'm- I'm sorry," he told her, quickly replacing his sword to its spot at his bedside.

The woman smiled at him, surprisingly. "It's nothing. Those reflexes saved me last night, didn't they?"

He got the sense that she was too forgiving, but didn't want to question a virtual stranger's actions. He moved onto another topic, "You're feeling better?"

"Sure am," she replied, pouring a bright pink mixture into a tall glass. She held it out to him to indicate that he come forward. "Name's Lebreau, by the way. And you're the famous Noel, am I right?"

He stood, walking over a bit awkwardly. This was all so idyllic that he felt out of place. It felt strange just to leave his sword a mere ten feet away on the ground. "Noel Kreiss," he introduced. Then he took the glass in hand, but not before Lebreau stabbed a straw into it. "Thank you. Is this... breakfast?"

She looked affronted, but it was clear after a few seconds that she was joking. "Of course not! I feed everyone better than that. That's a snack for while you wait," she explained, taking a peeler to a vegetable he couldn't identify.

He took a hesitant first sip of the mixture. Not bad. It was unfamiliar, but the taste was welcome. "Do you need help?"

Lebreau laughed as if he had cracked a joke, but continued to peel vegetables. "That's the first time I've heard that from a man in this house. Your offer is appreciated, but I've actually got something planned for you already." She fixed him with a stern look that danced on the edge of playful. "So, future boy, what do you say? Want to answer a few questions I've got?"

He thought that he was out of practise talking to people, proof evident in his late night talk with Serah, but he supposed there was no time like the present. Lebreau was a bit much to handle in the morning, but she wasn't dangerous. "Shoot."

Right out of the gate, she hit him hard. "What do you want with Serah?"

Mention of Serah's name conjured her face. He hadn't had very much time to think about the girl herself, just the adventure they would take should she accept it. She was a decent shot and the moogle seemed to like her, which was a good sign. From what he'd gathered, she also seemed used to being protected, at least by Lightning and Gadot. She was more on the soft-spoken side, and second-guessed herself often. There was something else, something in the bent of her mouth and the darting of her eyes. She looked like a person who was waiting.

He looked up at Lebreau. The question was aggressive at the very least, and he knew he had to answer carefully. "I'm here to take Serah to Lightning. Lightning told me that it was because I was the only one who could pass through the gates to Valhalla. Call it crazy, but Serah and I, we're... _supposed_ to take this journey together." He really believed that this was true. The gate had revealed itself to the both of them, after all. He could clearly remember the heat growing between their palms and the wind whipping up around them. This memory, in a sea of blurriness and uncertainty, was a beacon. This was something he could do _right_.

Lebreau had stopped chopping up vegetables and carving up meat. She stared at him, reading the sincerity in his face. "So you really talked to Lightning?" she asked, a bit subdued, but not by much.

He nodded. "Yeah."

She leant back a bit, seeming to pass judgment on him. Then she smirked. "So, how do I know you're not going to steal our Serah and ride off with her into the sunset, future boy?"

Noel's eyebrows shot up. He guessed Serah was lucky to have such loyal and concerned friends, however strange they might be. He touched the back of his neck and avoided looking at Lebreau's too-delighted expression. "I won't take Serah anywhere without making sure she wants to go," he promised.

Silence. He looked over at Lebreau. He must've missed something, must've answered in a way she hadn't been expecting, because her expression had slipped to something genuinely soft.

"What is it?" he asked. He got the sense that he was talking a bit too loud.

She shook her head. "Nothing."

He gave her a look.

She smiled, then turned around. Her voice drifted back to him. "Just glad you're here for her, Noel Kreiss."

He blinked in confusion at her back.

* * *

><p>When Serah had woken up mid-morning, he tailed her out of the house. She seemed a bit shy, probably a result of what she had confessed to him last night, so he made it a point to joke with her and smile a little more than usual. She seemed to ride the wave he'd swept - as in, his insistence that they look for an artefact to open the gate with.<p>

After a few false alarms, they chased one of Serah's trouble-making students. Even though it was off-track, he couldn't say no. It was nice to have other people around at all. The boy sheepishly handed Serah a necklace after she reprimanded him. Even the trivialities of other people's lives were current, _immediate_, and Noel soaked it all up quickly with the feeling that maybe these details could take up the space his old memories had left.

Now, Noel listened as Serah recounted her story of how no one would believe her about Lightning being alive, except for Snow, who left to go look for Lightning years ago. He stood at her back as she looked out over the tidal shallows. The shiny necklace dangled from between her fingers. "That's why I've been waiting here," she told the horizon calmly, a faraway smile on her face.

He shook his head. With all he'd learnt about her over these few hours, he couldn't understand where this was coming from. The tendency to be protected was in her gentle nature. The second-guessing was because her friends didn't believe her about something so close to her heart. But the look of waiting on her face... it made no sense. She grew her own food. She held her ground against giant monsters without batting an eyelash. She taught kids, was even harsh with them, enough to earn the nickname Meanie Miss Farron. The waiting... it just didn't fit.

Maybe he didn't know her well enough yet, but he had to say something. "Waiting here... and doing nothing, right?"

Her head fell.

"Lightning and Snow are long gone, but you still sit here and wait. Why?" What was it about her that riled him up? Was it her fortune to live in such a beautiful place, to have so many people who cared so much about her? No, that wasn't really it. The fire from last night lit in his veins again. He took steps toward her.

She was _better _than this, that was why. She didn't have to sit around and lie to herself about not being able to go out there and find Lightning. This didn't look like anything but a collection of flimsy excuses. "Serah."

She kept her back to him. Her voice was quiet as she admitted, "I wanted to go. I wish I had."

He narrowed his eyes and reassessed her. Was this hindsight talking? He approached her, and she must have sensed him because she turned around and looked up into his eyes. That stare again - it was so direct. She was too self-aware to not know what she was doing.

"It's not too late," he told her, voice as soft as it had been last night. "You can leave now, if that's what you really want." His silent offer: _I'll be there. Leave with me. Come on. Stop hiding._

She bowed her head again. "I know... but... I can't..." she trailed off, letting silence fall. Her answer was clear.

He let out a disappointed exhale and looked out over the shallows with her. He felt her staring at his profile, so after some quiet, he turned back to her and said, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't pressure you. In the end, the decision has to be yours." He turned away then, heart slightly heavier, feeling that now he'd have to continue the search for the artefact by himself. It wouldn't be anything new, being alone, but he didn't know just how much he believed in her and their journey before this feeling had hit again.

"Noel, wait."

He paused, determined to not let his hope rise too much.

She fidgeted with her fingers, then walked over to him, inadvertently blocking his way. "We still have to prove that the gate works."

Was she really...? His thought process sputtered as she took his hand in hers.

Her gaze was gentle, but steadfast. "Noel, I'm having a hard time absorbing this all... but the very least I can do is believe in you."

He turned his palm to hers and gave her a squeeze. Here he was, finding comfort and warmth in her hand again. "Thanks."

She might have squeezed back before she smiled and told him, "Just returning the favour."

The following silence sealed the moment. This dialogue would be another beacon, something else to slot next to the feeling of their joined hands unlocking the gate, something to slip over the hazy rememberings of his own world. He only nodded at her.

They began their walk back to town.


	14. Seaglass Soprano

_**Title: **Seaglass Soprano_  
><em><strong>Prompt: <strong>a cute fic where Noel hears Serah singing in the shower (from serahkreiss, now vance-valenti)_  
><em><strong>Rating: <strong>K_  
><em><strong>Words: <strong>693_  
><em><strong>Commentary: <strong>I, um, don't own the song. But I'm sure you'll know who does once you read this, heh. As a fun fact, I renamed this piece last minute! For the longest time, this was named "A Song for You", but I sprung for alliteration and a dash of originality. Finally, thank you to those of you who keep up with this collection, and especially to those who routinely review. I hope you all enjoy this one!  
><em>

* * *

><p>It was an hour past sunrise, and Noel was returning back to NORA house from his morning jog. He made his way up the beach in the old clothes Yuj had given to him, worn in and perfect for sweating in. The front and back of his shirt were damp, and he could feel the cold morning air prickling the back of his neck. He ran a hand through his hair. Time for a shower and a change of clothes.<p>

Shucking his shoes by the entrance, he made his way over the hardwood floors to Serah's room. The bathroom was beyond her room, and he'd learned that it was better to simply enter quietly while she was sleeping rather than knock and face the consequences of waking her. Even though she didn't say anything, the scrunch of her eyes and pucker of her mouth told him exactly how she felt about being woken up too early, and he'd avoided it since. Suddenly very conscious of how loud he was breathing, he made an effort to quiet himself. Then he slid open one of the double doors.

Though she was arguably scary when woken up too early, when she was asleep Serah looked peaceful. He'd wandered over to her bed some mornings and just peeked over her sleeping form to catch sight of her face. Sometimes she'd be smiling, and he wondered if she was having good dreams, and what they were about.

This morning though, Serah's bed was only a tangle of sheets. He passed on through, wondering idly where she could be. The rare times she did wake early, she usually strolled along the beach in her nightgown, keeping an eye out for seaglass or pretty shells. He always joined her on the way back from his jogs, and she always accepted his presence quietly and easily. Sometimes he'd spot a treasure that seemed Serah-like, and scoop it from the sand to give to her. She would examine it with a half-critical eye, then smile and pocket it. A lifetime spent living on the beach hadn't made her love it any less. He didn't know why, but he liked this about her.

Just then, his ears perked to the sound of the running shower. Mystery solved. He turned back around, figuring he'd just have to wait for his shower. He padded across the floor, rotating his shoulders and thinking of seaglass. And then:

_You rest inside my mind_

_Since the day you came_

_I knew you would be with me_

Noel's eyes widened. That was Serah's singing voice? He hadn't ever heard it before. She hummed and whistled, music of all varieties, and sometimes he suspected some of it wasn't music at all but an outlet for her thoughts. When she was stressed she was deathly silent. When she was nervous she hummed a medley of superhero theme songs. When she gave their monster companions baths she whistled cheerily. But never had she sung. This tune was one he'd heard before - she hummed around him sometimes, when they were alone out in the field. He turned back around and looked at the bathroom door, waiting for the next few words. Even muffled by the wood, he could tell that her words were heartfelt. He had the distinct suspicion that she'd composed this song herself.

_All the time we spent_

_What we shared was surely_

_Warm enough to know you cared for me_

Her voice was... beautiful. His eyes softened and his mouth pulled up at a corner. Serah really was just full of surprises. The lyrics were simple, the tune lilting. Pretty, even. Just like her. He didn't want her to ever stop surprising him.

Feeling that he'd heard too much though, Noel turned to leave the room for good this time. He stretched out his torso, then slid the bedroom door shut.

Once the door had shut, another door cracked open— the bathroom door. Serah poked her head out, hair wet and puddles gathering at her feet. She stared at the door Noel had just closed and smiled, hoping he'd heard what she'd sung, because it was for him.


	15. Come Home

_**Title: **Come Home_  
><em><strong>Prompt: <strong>post-game fic when Noel tries to find Serah again (a la after your With Her Went His Heart fic) and ANGST (from aitaikimochi)_  
><em><strong>Rating: <strong>K+_  
><em><strong>Words: <strong>3555_  
><em><strong>Commentary:<strong> As you can see from the prompt, this is a sequel to one of my stories not found within this collection, titled _With Her Went His Heart_. I think that it's because this is a sequel that I allowed it to turn out to be so long. I sincerely hope you enjoy this, because it was heartbreaking to write! As always, feedback is much appreciated.  
><em>

_(Also, we're well over 10,000 hits for this collection! Thank you for keeping up with _Across Historia!)

* * *

><p>Hope, Sazh and Dajh stood a ways back from the gate, each of them eyeing it with uncertainty. It pulsed a blank white, and the orb balanced within the iron frame spun wickedly fast.<p>

"You find her, alright?" Sazh said finally, shielding his eyes from the light the gate emitted. It was blinding.

Dajh ran to Noel, hugging his knees. "Yeah, bring Serah back! And stay safe, Noel," the little boy chirped, looking up at him with giant, watery eyes. Noel just gave him an affectionate pat on the head, ruffling his hair.

When Dajh ran back to his father, Noel looked to Hope. "I'll keep the gate stable for as long as I can. But try to hurry back," Hope told him. The warning in his eyes was real. Hope was a worrywart, Noel thought, but he was justified in doing so. With the way Valhalla was slowly eating up their world, he had no way of knowing just where and when he would land.

He gave Hope a single nod. "You have my word," he promised.

And then he dove into the Historia Crux again.

* * *

><p>Noel fell from the gate into a deep crouch. His muscles ached minutely, not used to being tested in such a way after his long absence from time-traveling. The gate behind him became scorched. He peered at it, reassured that it worked the way the old gates did. Then he did a sweep of the area.<p>

He was in The Void Beyond, or one of them, at least. He climbed over the fallen columns, looking for the throne to use as a landmark. The air here was awful, stale. Dust and dirt itched at his nose. He scrunched it in discomfort.

As he rose over a ridge, he spotted the throne. He narrowed his eyes. There was something different about this throne.

_No,_ he thought to himself. He pushed himself over the rocky terrain, forcing himself closer. Realization gripped his ankles and held him fast. _No, _he repeated once he was in front of it.

As much as he didn't want to believe, there she sat. Lightning, clad in the armour Etro had blessed her with, was seated firmly atop the throne, eyes closed and head turned passively to the side. She was entirely crystal.

He stared up at her in horror. He perceived scratch marks along her arms, flecks of white, where her body touched the throne, but she was otherwise untouched. So transfixed he was on her statue that he almost missed the lifeless figure seated at throne's base, off to the side. A figure he would know in a heartbeat.

He dove at her. "Serah!" he exclaimed, relief flooding his system. He took her up into his arms - god, she was cold - and buried his face into the curls of her hair. "Serah, you're alive," he whispered, surprised at how fast the tears came, spilling over onto his cheeks, hot and sloppy.

He pulled back from her, quick to assess her condition. Physically, she was spotless, not a smear or smudge of dirt to be seen. But as he looked at her for longer, he was gradually overcome with dread.

Her lips were cracked, her face devoid of colour. Her breathing was shallow, and the air she breathed out smelt just as stale as the air around them. Her eyes were absolutely lifeless. And then - it struck him hard and fast - she hadn't reacted to him.

His instincts told him to get her out of here, and fast. He scooped her up into his arms without protest, and began to walk toward a newly appeared gate. The different future he'd made by choosing to bring her back.

He was met with resistance once he passed the throne. He paused, looking behind them.

Serah's hand had reached out to grab the crystal hand of her sister.

Noel grit his teeth. He shook his head once, a firm shake, and forced himself to step back. He pried Serah's cold hand from Lightning's, trying not to notice how they were eerily the same temperature. Her nails were worn down and her fingertips were bloody. His stomach lurched - he now knew where those scratches on Lightning had come from. Serah made a small whimper upon their disconnect, but beyond that there was nothing. Not even her eyes betrayed the smallest hint of panic.

With her gathered in his arms, he stepped into the gate.

* * *

><p>"What did you say?"<p>

The nurse repeated herself to him, making small gestures with her hands. "We think she may have post-traumatic stress. It looks to be an extreme case. The fact that she was so physically taxed when she was checked in didn't help matters."

He fisted a hand in his hair, cast a worried glance over the nurse's shoulder at Serah's door. He gulped, remembering the tight grip she'd held onto Lightning with, belied by a limp arm. "Well, when can we expect a recovery?"

The nurse nodded, anticipating his question. "Physically, she should be back to normal within a couple of months. Mentally, it's harder to place an estimate. She doesn't look to have any immediate family, so the decisions with concern to rehabilitation would fall to—"

"Me," he interjected. "Noel Kreiss."

The nurse levelled a Look at him. "You checked her in, sir, along with Director Estheim, but you're saying she doesn't have any living kin to make these decisions?"

His fingernails dug into his palms. He directed his gaze to her door. "If it's all the same to you, miss," he told her, "she's all _I've _got."

* * *

><p>Daily check-ins. Sometimes twice a day, if he was having a bad day. All the staff knew who he was. The room she stayed in was a retreat for him. He always went in with the intention of relaying his troubles to her cataconic form, only to find that her mere presence was balm enough to his wounds. His troubles were all small in comparison to her lying in this bed, dead to the world. What was a power outage in a sector of Bhunivelze, a harrowing interview with a reporter, a minor spat with the reforming military? They were placeholders, besides, obstacles to spending time with her, here. He didn't have anything else to do, besides.<p>

He found that civilians had much of the same response as they did in the previous timeline - flooding her room with flowers and stuffed toys, all their wishes for her to _get well, soon_. He threw away fewer and fewer bouquets as the weeks went by, as the news of her unimproving condition was splattered all over the news, as people began to lose hope.

It was when he was chucking a bouquet of wilted lilies into the garbage that she spoke - her first word in weeks.

"Lightning," she croaked.

He pivoted to face her immediately. "Serah?" he asked, his voice too loud, at least in comparison to hers. "Are you awake? Can you hear me? Serah?" He was taking her hand in both of his before he knew it. Nearly fully physically recovered, her hand was considerably warmer. He looked into her blank eyes. "Serah, can you hear me?"

"Lightning," she whined.

He sat beside her the whole night after that, waking up to smooth away the lines across her forehead.

* * *

><p>The day of her release. She was coming home with him. It wasn't too much paperwork, especially not since Hope had handled half of it. He'd gotten good at finishing up with paperwork once he'd become Director of the Academy, and blew through it in no time, supplementing the visits the rehabilitation worker would make to Noel's apartment twice a week. Noel knew Hope felt guilty about not seeing Serah often enough, even with all the projects he was pulled between, so he'd let Hope pay for the bulk of the bills.<p>

"Make sure she gets better," Hope said softly, looking forlornly at Serah's sleeping form. When she wasn't sleeping, she was staring blankly. Her gaze flickered now and then though, and she was responsive to light, feeding Noel glimmers of hope that she could be restored.

It happened as they moved her into the wheelchair.

Serah's heart began to hammer, the monitor spooling out readings. He watched from the doorway as she woke, and for the first time since he'd found her again, read the absolute terror and pain in her eyes. He ran to her. "Serah!"

"Mister Kreiss, leave!" hollered the nurses. He pushed them aside, forgetting his strength, but not caring as he gripped her upper arms.

"Serah! Serah, it's me," he told her, putting his face close to hers. The pained look only intensified on her face. Her lips moved slowly, muscles struggling to form silent words.

"Move, Mister Kreiss!" ordered a doctor, rushing in, door slamming behind him.

"Serah, please," he begged, pressing his forehead to hers, "Serah, come home."

"Don't make us suspend you from this facility, Mister Kreiss," the doctor said sternly, pulling at his collar.

The monitor let out a flat, continuous beep. Noel opened his eyes to see that Serah had gone completely limp in his hands. Her eyes had closed. "Serah? What's going on?" he demanded of the hospital staff.

The doctors and nurses started tossing around words like _arrhythmia_ and _cardiac _and he could only sit there as Serah fell back. They lifted her as a team back onto the bed and began pulling out instruments and reading charts. He tried to push through the layers of flesh to her, desperately throwing his arms out, and he was shouting things he didn't remember, even as they were leaving his mouth...

"Leave, Noel," one of the nurses whispered, pity abundant on her face. "We'll take care of her," she told him.

More and more people seemed to enter that room, swarming around Serah, pushing him back. And before he knew it, he was standing on the edge of that crowd, looking on.

* * *

><p>Hope set his cup back down on its tippy saucer. "You're sure?"<p>

Noel just clenched his jaw. He let out a forceful breath. "It's what I need to do."

Hope's gaze darted all over Noel's face, assessing his intent. His expression told Noel that Hope wasn't convinced. But then Hope opened his mouth. "You'll need to pass the preliminary testing, then," he relented.

Noel looked up at Hope, his brow unstitching.

"With no birth certificate, no license, no history or credit, this'll be uphill for you," Hope warned. "I can only get your foot in the University door. You make sure to pass those tests with flying colours."

Noel's gaze turned hard, twin sapphires. "Don't worry," he told Hope. Usually, Hope found these words to be overconfident in their delivery, but not today. Noel was serious, and on the edge of tears.

"I'll do it. For her."

* * *

><p>A visit in the dead of night. His pending residency here allowed him a few privileges. They'd kept her in the same room for what was fast becoming two years, and he didn't need light to feel his way around her room.<p>

He lifted the one chair in her room so that he could sit at her bedside, and let his gaze settle on her profile. Then he dropped his bag of heavy books to the floor and drew one out. He turned on the flashlight he kept with him and pointed it at the pages. Embryology tonight.

His professors at the university were tough but fair, and his natural charm and desire to work hard had won many of them over, despite his lack of a first degree. He studied twice as long as other students did, frequently looking up words he hadn't read before. When he got tired, pressing fingers to his temples, he reminded himself what it was all for - who it was all for. He remembered the day her heart stopped and how helpless he had been, how useless he had been to her. He hated not being able to protect her.

Other students were there as a product of a lifetimes' worth of work and dedication, as an act of parental loyalty, as a means to a wealthy end. His own reasons were more neatly summarized - sitting in this very hospital room in a threadbare gown, breathing thinly.

Textbook in his lap, he reached over to brush her hair from her forehead, fingers skimming gently over her skin. It had grown dry in the hospital air. He found it harder and harder to remember a time when this skin had been smooth, when it would be gently twitched into a position that told him she was concerned or tired or happy.

He wondered: what was she seeing, in her haze? How much of her was here with them and how much was still with Lightning's crystallized form in the Void Beyond?

He never thought of how long this could take.

He pressed the pads of his fingers to the backs of her hands and his lips to her forehead. A seeming era ago, time had once mattered. But not anymore. He just wanted her back.

* * *

><p>Sazh's laughter was almost too loud for his now library-attuned ears.<p>

"Is it _that_ funny?" he asked, trying to sound the right amount of defensive. He picked up his pen again and gripped it tight, where it dug into the meat of finger. He began to sketch out the bones of the hand and label them on his napkin.

Sazh snatched the napkin, which only made a long line bisect the paper. "Boy, you bet your hand it's funny," Sazh commented on Noel's latest story - a shortened version of Serah's bikini disaster in the tides of New Bodhum. He had looked over Sazh's shoulder and focused on the middle distance as he described his mortification upon discovering her bottom had washed out to sea. His mouth quirked, unable to help itself.

Sazh returned the napkin reluctantly. "Exam?"

"When do I not have one?" he joked back, bowing his head again to draw in bones.

Sazh leant back on his side of the booth. "Got time for my story?"

Noel labelled _metacarpals. _"Yeah."

Sazh began an anecdote about the time Dajh and he had gone to sign up for Serah's classes. She was shocked, then delighted, then later on, harsh, the exact "Meanie Miss Farron" he heard of all those times from so many kids. His brow relaxed, and sometime during the story he put his pen down. When Sazh delivered the punchline he laughed one, short laugh, then a beat later, felt the ache of missing her hit him right in the gut. The her he had right now was probably sleeping, translucent eyelids fluttering from bad dreams.

"Well, I've gotta pick Dajh up now," Sazh stood, throwing down a few gil. "Good luck on that," he said, shaking a finger at his napkin.

He waved goodbye. He turned back to his napkin. He had stopped mid-word - _triquetr_ - and for the life of him, just couldn't remember the rest of the name.

* * *

><p>"I'm just saying, I don't think your techniques are-"<p>

"I'll tell you what my techniques are. They are perfectly good techniques. Proven techniques that have helped several dozen patients in my years here, and I don't need an upstart _student_ to tell me how to do my job!"

"Yes, the texts will back me up, but this is more than that! I _know_ her. This won't work!" he hollered at the man, hollered like he never had in his life. He stood between them both, shielding Serah from this person - this stranger - who didn't understand.

"Fine. You throw your knowledge of this girl in my face. All I can throw at her are my years of experience." And then there was the slam of the door.

Noel pulled his fingers through his hair to the point of pain, then dropped his arms to his sides. He let out a frustrated sigh. He glanced at Serah, whose mouth had only tightened into a line as he and the psychologist had gone at it.

And not for the first time, he wondered if he was going about this the right way.

"Tell me what to do, Serah," he whispered to the room.

* * *

><p>Three years and a highly coveted degree in medicine, and on the day of his graduation he'd fled to her hospital room. Hope and Sazh watched him take off with narrowed eyes, then approached him later that evening. They vehemently insisted he take a vacation. Backed into a corner, he agreed, but was still hesitant to leave Serah for any amount of time. As he packed for the weekend-long trip, his eyes fell to Odinblade. His swords shone menacingly black and gold in the morning light. He took them down off their mounts and examined them. They were horridly dusty, but they hadn't rusted. He swung them experimentally in the small space of his room, and a plethora of memories flooded him. Maybe he wasn't so rusty either.<p>

He called Sazh. "Can we change the vacation plans?" he asked, a smile tugging at his lips.

* * *

><p>He was hunting again. This world, of course, wasn't littered with dangerous monsters though, so he only hunted big game that researchers at the Academy needed for experiments and whatnot. He was happy to oblige, calling the labs directly with news of a pristine carcass he had taken down for them.<p>

The hospital assigned him to Serah in a heartbeat, but mysteriously gave him no other patients. His recreational visits to her fell to thrice a week. Still, if he was having a tough week, he came in more often. But he called hellos to the staff now, and brought with him flowers. He always left a bouquet at the front desk and took one with him to Serah's room.

Her progress was steady. Surviving solely off of IVs for a long time, it was astonishing when she had woke enough to eat. And then she was walking on her own - still not enough not to need physical therapy, but it was something. She reacted to pain, she reacted to light. She didn't speak. Flickers of emotion passed across her face from time to time. He observed each improvement with soft eyes.

One day as he watched her spoon applesauce into her mouth, he realized something. Something he'd lost sight of through all the minutiae of muscles and all the years spent in this one room. He didn't want to work as a doctor. He didn't want to administer shots or shine lights into kids' ears or congratulate new parents. This was what he'd wanted at the start of it all - to be with her through absolutely everything, the good and the bad. To be by her side unerringly.

To protect her.

He thought about Hope's face as he'd called the Head of the Faculty of Medicine. He thought about the hospital director's expression as she'd assigned him to Serah and no one else.

They'd known all along, hadn't they? That he had to find his own way. That he had to find himself again.

* * *

><p>He was polishing his large collection of swords - which were definitely no longer dusty or rusty - one afternoon when the phone rang. He picked up on the last ring. "Hello?"<p>

"Noel, come to the hospital," Hope told him.

His heartbeat picked up. "The hospital? Is it Serah?"

Hope hesitated. "Yeah," he said.

Noel pocketed his phone, put on shoes, and booked it to the hospital. His heart jumped around his chest, scared for whatever new development there was with Serah. He blew through the front doors and made a beeline for Serah's room. The door was open.

Hope, Sazh and Dajh were all circled around the bed, with a collection of his co-workers. Their faces were all equally calm, tender, even.

"Where's Noel?"

He froze. His breath clogged in his throat. And then it came rushing in when he heard her speak again, "I want to see Noel."

His friends parted like a curtain. Sitting up in her bed, Serah was alert, eyes darting from face to face. And then they landed on him. The eye contact sparked a smile across her face so wide that he couldn't believe it.

"Noel!" she exclaimed. She swung her legs over the side of the bed, but she didn't even make it that far—

Because he had run to her, arms open, already. In that moment he forgot her fragile state, crushing her in the strongest hug he had ever given. He buried his face into her hair, gone a few days without washing, but he breathed it in deep all the same. His tears were already flowing, hot and sloppy, down his cheeks. "Serah," he murmured.

Their friends tittered around them, but the noises fell on deaf ears. Serah had pulled out of their hug to look Noel in the eyes. She was crying, too, and touched a finger to a tear on his cheek. She gave him a shaky smile, which he returned. And then she told him, with a laugh, "I'm back."

And Noel knew and felt that she was. She was finally, finally home.


	16. Darling, Don't Be Afraid

_**Title: **Darling, Don't Be Afraid_  
><em><strong>Prompt: <strong>During their travels Noel and Serah have countless fights, but during one such battle Serah's engagement necklace breaks (from Gr8pes)_  
><em><strong>Rating: <strong>T, for language and violence imagery_  
><em><strong>Words: <strong>1930_  
><em><strong>Commentary: <strong>I put a spin on this prompt, mainly on the words "fight" and "battle", heh. I just felt like they needed this. The title for this piece comes from Christina Perri's "A Thousand Years" which I think you'll find matches Noel and Serah astoundingly well.  
>On a personal note, this last week has been crazy and tiring, and the way things are looking, it's only going to be more of the same. I will still aim for a minimum of one update per week, but this is not a firm promise.<br>That all said, please enjoy this, and feedback is always much appreciated.  
><em>

* * *

><p>This was getting harder and harder to bear.<p>

At first, it had been merely a case of concealing his feelings. She was beautiful and interesting and made him feel wanted, even needed, and these were the sparks to the flame. His affection only grew with time. The amount of attention he paid her was almost unseemly - he'd gotten searching looks more than once from Hope and Alyssa. He wasn't doing a very good job of hiding it, that was certain. There was no question that he couldn't tell her though, not when she had a fiance, absent though he was.

They were fighting a tonberry when it happened. He was provoking it, perhaps too much, wanting to keep it away from Serah. Its hits became harder, took more out of him each time. Mediguard wasn't holding up as well as he'd bargained for, and he could sense poison coursing through his veins, burning at a point of entry on his thigh. He couldn't let this battle lose momentum by healing, or by having Serah heal him though. If he could hold out for just a bit longer...

"Go!" Serah called to their monster companion, and it set fire to the field as Serah launched a barrage of arrows up into the sky. He took a second to admire the bolts of light and the girl firing them. Her eyes were steel blue and her mouth was set firmly. She was magnificent.

Once the arrows landed, he saw his opening. He ran forward, ignoring the pain singing up his leg, and began to slash at the tonberry. It was fading fast, but so was he. He joined his swords together and launched the newly formed javelin straight at the monster's torso. It died on contact, surrendering a crystal to them.

Serah snatched it out of the air, elated at their win. "Alright!" she cheered. She seemed a bit out of breath, but was fine otherwise. _Good,_ he thought.

She turned to him with a huge smile. The smile faded when she saw his chest heaving and the pale, sickly colour of his face. "Noel!" she exclaimed, rushing over to him.

"Think it's... the poison," he said, hating how dramatic he sounded. He tried to sheathe his swords, only to miss miserably.

Serah's eyes swept over his form to find the open gash on his thigh, made visible by the giant tear in his pants. Her eyes got huge. The wound was pretty ugly, and the flow of blood hadn't stopped thanks to his moving around so much.

She took his swords and sheathed them for him, then sat him down. "You shouldn't have left this for so long," she scolded.

"I'm fine," he insisted. He lifted his hands, encased in the glow of curative magic. It didn't help his case that his forearms were shaking.

"Stop," she commanded, then called forth her own spells. She cured him quick, several spells in succession, then pushed an esuna up his leg.

He felt the esuna chase the poison in his veins, wincing in pain and discomfort. The effect was immediate though, and he felt less nauseated enough to stand within seconds.

Not that Serah let him. She pushed back against his chest. "You're not done yet," she told him, authoritative. She gave him a stern look that he imagined was a bit too harsh to use on her students.

He let himself be pushed back, sitting down on the ground once again. He didn't say anything as she continued to tend to his leg, queuing up cure after cure. He watched her a bit dazedly, at the way she tilted her head just so, at how even with a healthy layer of dust over her face she was stunning. The precise spread of her fingers hovering over his wound spoke of all the times she'd done this for each of them before. It made him the tiniest bit uneasy, but he couldn't deny that it felt nice to taken care of by her.

She continued to bathe his thigh in green light. Veins and arteries reformed, resupplying mended muscle, all at a glacial pace.

He watched her brow furrow and her mouth turn down. She was trying to force his recovery, trying to replace good old fashioned time and rest with an excess of magic.

"Serah," he said.

Sweat appeared on her brow. She did not reply.

He took her wrist in hand. "Serah, stop. It'll heal on its own time."

She clenched her jaw.

When he pulled at her arm, she snapped, whirling on him. "Let me heal you!" she all but growled.

He paused, stunned for a moment. Serah never lost her temper, _ever_. They stared at each other for several moments before her eyes scrunched and her mouth gaped, sucking in a deep breath of air. When she spoke again, her voice wavered. "I just- you looked- the wound was so bad," she tried to explain, anger quickly dissolving. Her hands fell to uninjured parts of him - his calves. "I've never seen... you look like that," she said, the bridge of her nose stinging with tears uncried.

He regarded her with soft eyes. She had been holding back all this time, pushing aside her feelings in order to heal him. The hand he had on her wrist came up to rest on her shoulder. "We can heal my wound up every few hours," was all he said.

She would have none of that. The grip she had on his calves increased, and then she was suddenly moving to him, crushing her mouth to his. As he bowed to the force of her kisses, he tasted the saltiness of tears on their joined lips.

* * *

><p>At first, it had merely been a case of concealing his feelings. Now, it was being caught in the maelstrom that was <em>Serah<em>, watching her admonish herself for cheating on Snow, but not being able to resist her each time she pressed herself up against him. Her confusion extended out to him, and he knew that it was only because of his feelings for her that he let himself be swept away. He had learned to accept that she was his weakness, but she wouldn't accept that he was hers.

The decisive blow came one night over the campfire. She was fidgety. He knew because she couldn't stop from pacing back and forth in front of the fire. The second she asked it, he knew there would be trouble - "Why do you put up with me?"

He saw quickly through her. She was caught in the throes of self-loathing, wanting to give herself more reasons to chip away at her character. She twirled her necklace chain mindlessly.

"I don't _put up _with you," he answered her carefully.

"So why do you stay with me?" she stepped closer to him, rewording her question whip-fast. She seemed intent on torturing herself, and he seemed doomed to be collateral damage.

He looked up at her from his seat on the ground, made sure he had her attention. "We stay together because we need each other."

His answer seemed to bring her up short. She continued to pull at her necklace, shifted her weight from foot to foot. Her knuckles turned white, so tight was her grip on the pendant. "Why do you need me," she seemed to rasp, "When I'm so-"

He stood quickly, not wanting to give her a chance to wreck herself. He cut her off, "I just need you. And you need me, Serah."

She gulped away the dryness of her throat. She took slow steps back from him. "No," she said to herself.

"Serah," he called to her. "Serah, we just fit. Can't you see that?"

She shook her head, willing away the gravity of his words. "No, no. This doesn't even make sense," she said. He knew this was quickly spinning out of control, even before she said, "I'm not supposed to know you. You're not even from my time!"

He felt his self-control slip a notch. She had hit him right where it hurt, right at his gut. All this time he'd been scared to tell her the exact depth of his feelings for her, and here she was, denying it all before it even had a chance. "How can you say that?" he asked her. He went on, hoping to pull her back, "How can you say that and be who you are?"

The fear in her eyes was undeniable. A moment's pause, then she was basically yelling, "I'm not anything! I'm Serah Farron. I miss my sister. I teach kids. I'm not a... warrior. I'm not... any of that. It's not possible." Her hand was at her mouth. He could see her chin trembling, regardless.

She was denying him, _them_, and now she was denying herself. "No," he said, knowing he sounded too harsh, "Serah, what's not possible is how you can deny who you are."

"No," she said. She shut her eyes, childishly trying to shut him out.

He went to her, boldly choosing to take her face in both hands. His thumbs ghosted over her eyelids, then down to her cheeks. She jerked her head from his touch. "You can't drive me away," he told her.

"I'm not right for you," she protested weakly. Her fist was still closed tight around the necklace. She was holding onto the past, onto who she used to be. She was scared at the changes in herself, scared of him, and scared of the future.

Why couldn't she see? If she just opened her eyes and her heart to him then she'd know - he was there unconditionally. She'd know... that he loved her.

"Damn it, Serah," he whispered, striding over to her again. He closed his hand around her fist. They both held the necklace within their grips. He kissed her ferociously, tilting her head up to meet him. She succumbed to him this time, only managing to move her lips the smallest bit with him. She let out a whine into his mouth. There was no denying this, the fit of their lips, the absolute faultlessness in how they were together.

Thinking this, his fingers tightened around her fist. She sensed what he was about to do, and broke their kiss, gasping. "Wait," she said.

He couldn't take this. She needed to come into her own, and he needed to make her see. He fixed her with burning blue eyes. "I love you," he told her. His gaze fell for a moment, then rose to her face again. He half-commanded, half-begged, "Don't deny me again."

His heart was entirely in her hands. She was breathing heavily, eyes locked with his. Then she looked down at her neck, where his hand was closed over hers. She looked up at him again. "Together," she said.

He nodded.

Then in the same instant, they pulled, ripping the chain from around her neck. They opened their fists. The pendant lay in her pale palm. They stared down at it.

She closed her fingers around it again, tendons in her wrist jumping beneath her skin. Then without ceremony, she tossed it into the fire. He watched it go without regret. Relief flooded him.

She moved into his embrace and they watched the fire together. He imagined her doubt burning away.

She told him, warm breath moving past his collarbones, tears welling up, "I've loved you."

He moved his hand over the empty space at her chest, then kissed her hair.

And they continued on.


	17. Ship & Harbour

_**Title:** Ship & Harbour_  
><em><strong>Prompt: <strong>Why don't you try something including Snow? I'd die to know how he'd react if some relationship did form between Noel and Serah. How would those three characters deal with it? (from MiniAcorn)_  
><em><strong>Rating: <strong>T_  
><em><strong>Words: <strong>1701_  
><em><strong>Commentary:<strong> This is set partially during the paradox ending "The Future is Hope". Clearly, I've taken some author's liberties with how this ending plays out. I hope you enjoy!  
><em>

* * *

><p><em>Pure bliss,<em> Serah decides, as she lies back, _this is absolute bliss_.

She cranes her neck to look at the man beside her, and as it happens he has also craned his neck to look at her. She smiles and wriggles up the bed so their mouths can meet in a kiss. She runs her fingers through his hair, soft and smelling of the shampoo they share. She lets out a low groan into his mouth, and he responds by kissing her harder. He always knows just how to kiss her, he always knows just where she wants to be kissed. Now, he tilts his head and flicks out his tongue, sending tingles shooting down her spine. She presses herself against him, letting him know exactly how much she wants from him. His arm comes around her lower back.

"I think I love you," she whispers to him.

A pause. "You _think_ you love me? C'mon, Serah, baby."

That's not Noel's voice. Her eyes snap open. She regards the figure of Snow in her bed - _their_ bed, Noel's and her bed - with shock and revulsion.

"You love me," Snow says. "Now, let me show you how much I love you."

* * *

><p>She jerks awake, breathing heavily. She sits up, fast, giving herself a headrush, and regrets it because it hurts and doesn't even help dispel the nightmare.<p>

The mattress beneath her shifts, and she knows Noel has woken, too. "Nightmare?" he guesses accurately. He sits up with her.

She mashes the heels of her palms into her eyes. She answers, "Yeah."

One of his arms is at her back. He waits, knowing she'll elaborate.

"I- I think I have to find Snow. Tell him about us."

Noel takes one of her hands in his. His other hand goes to her knee. "I'm with you," he pledges.

* * *

><p>They travel the timeline looking for Hope's graviton cores. They pick one up in every place they visit, Mog swirling and shining bright pink light to reveal the precious power sources. As they land in each new place, she tenses, and it's obvious to them both that she's scared to find Snow there. Even though she knows it has to be done, even though the dream hasn't bothered her since that one night, it lingers on her mind.<p>

She could bite her fingernails, knowing how this is affecting Noel. He puts up a good front most days, but sometimes he slips and kisses her a little too hard, sometimes she catches the possessive flicker in his eyes when they see a tall blonde. She hates the thought of hashing it out with Snow, but she hates doing this to Noel even more.

He doesn't deserve this, she knows. _She's_ the one who tore the necklace from her neck, and _she's _the one who went to him with her lips chewed raw, pressing them to his own.

They've turned in for the night in the Academy-sponsored hotel in Academia, their unspoken base, where they've been staying for the past month or so. The bed already fits the contours of their bodies. She rolls over to him and slips her arms around his torso. He stirs, then flips so that they're facing each other. He opens his eyes.

He always reminds her of how right they are together when he looks at her. He looks at her like she might break, looks at her like she's his harbour, looks at her like she's a swimsuit model, looks at her like she's the only other person around.

She looks right back at him. Though she's sleepy, she hopes she looks at him even half the way he looks at her.

* * *

><p>Alyssa holds the artefact up to them, an offer balanced on her open palm. Serah notices Noel's staring - his intuition flickers.<p>

She tries to figure out a polite way to decline when very suddenly the police force of Academia rushes in and has Alyssa on her knees. They're a blur of flashing metal and giant guns, so it doesn't take much for the new arrival to stand out-

After weeks of searching and several dead ends, there he is: Snow. He's talking to them, but none of his words register. Instead, she feels the presence of Noel at her side. She gives him a quick glance. His breathing is deliberately even.

A hand on her shoulder. Not Noel's - this one is gloved. Hope's. She looks up at him. He's not looking at her, but at Snow. Hope's words are cutting, and it occurs to her that Hope is reprimanding Snow. Hope really is an adult now, going head-to-head with Snow, and - she's certain of this - he's winning. Hope's hand never leaves her shoulder. Noel's breaths never falter in their steadiness. With Hope and Noel on either side of her, she feels as if... she were a protectorate.

Snow makes a dismissive gesture, not hearing Hope. Either that or he doesn't want to listen. He tells them to come outside, not waiting for them to follow.

* * *

><p>She feels distinctly uneasy standing outside of the Academy headquarters, where Snow has parked his motorcycle illegally. Hope scowls upon seeing this, but says nothing. As they walked the corridors to get here, he asked her if she was feeling alright. She thinks that Hope knows more than he lets on.<p>

"I've got to stop Caius wherever I can. I've got thirteen different eras to visit," Snow tells them, pumping a fist.

"Where's Lightning?" Noel asks. It takes her by surprise - they're the first words he's spoken in a while.

As Snow answers, she realizes Noel was asking for her.

Then Snow turns to her and extends a hand. "Serah, come with me, okay?"

She stares, dumbfounded, at his palm. Her eyes dart over to Noel, who is looking right back at her. His arms are crossed, and she can see the tension in his forearms - clenching his fists. He gives her a nod. And that look.

She takes Snow's hand. "Let's talk."

* * *

><p>His motorcycle is still roaring, even after she has dismounted and told him she doesn't want to get married. "Serah," he starts, arms crossed over his torso and shaking his head, "What's gotten into you?"<p>

_Nothing,_ she wants to say. He asks her like she doesn't know what she's talking about, so she wants to be inflexible and combative. Then she calms down, and dives into deeper waters. She thinks about how best to answer.

Her knee-jerk answer wouldn't have been correct. No, it wasn't nothing. She _had _changed. She had stopped waiting around, stopped giving herself permission to do nothing. She'd seen how good she had it, shielded always from the world by Lightning or Snow. When she became a l'Cie she had a taste of how unfair the world could be, but now she was seeing it every day in her travels. People lived in worlds of constant warfare. People died all the time, and they stayed dead. If she had the power to make even one life better, how could she sit by and do nothing? No, it was the farthest thing from nothing. What had gotten into her was resolve. Resolve and strength and wisdom and experience! She had flourished, become a person capable of anything. And it was all because-

"Noel," she says. "It's Noel."

The engine of Snow's motorcycle snarls. Snow scratches his head. "Serah, I know it's easy to feel sorry for the guy-"

She shakes her head. He doesn't get it, and he won't get it if she doesn't spell it out for him. He hasn't even noticed that she's not wearing the necklace anymore, after all. She fixes him with a stern look. "It's not pity, Snow. It's love."

* * *

><p>Noel is still waiting outside the headquarters when she returns. Her eyes land on him immediately, and they hold fast as she descends from the sky on Snow's bike. Noel gravitates toward them, his fingers drumming his thigh nervously.<p>

When Snow touches down she makes an effort not to jump off too quickly. She doesn't want to wound him more than she already has. "Be safe," she tells him.

He nods. Then he tips his chin up to holler to Noel across the stretch of pavement, "Hold onto her." Even at that, she feels her hair begin to stand slightly on end.

Noel raises a hand in acknowledgement, but his eyes are on her. The roar of the motorcycle is the only thing that tells her Snow has left. At that, she gives herself full consent to run to Noel like a girl in a movie. She doesn't have to see herself to know that she's smiling like one, too.

She flies straight into him. His arms come around her fast. He exhales into her hair, and she feels him shudder, the tension from the past few weeks lifting away from them. She doesn't even realize she's laughing until she's already stopped.

"It's over?" he makes sure.

"It's over," she confirms. She thinks that she wants to kiss him now. But first... "I should've told you this a long time ago, Noel," she says, looking into his eyes, smiling. "But-"

"I love you," he says.

She blinks.

He tries not to grin. "Is that what you were going to say?"

Her eyebrows come down over her eyes, and then Noel really is grinning. "Did you just do that?"

"Say I love you? Yes," he answers.

"No, scoop me by saying I love you first, and then rub it in my face?" she asks him, edging on incredulous.

He puts a hand to her cheek. He tries to sound light-hearted, but it dissipates through sincerity. "Hey, I was afraid you might not come back. You've got to give me something."

She fits her fingers between his. Even though she knows he thought this, it's painful to hear it out loud. "I was always going to come back."

He gives her that look. Only this time it's less like she might break and more like she's a swimsuit model.

So she inches closer to him, says her I Love You, and kisses him right on the mouth.


End file.
